


Pillow Talk

by TheMoonMoths



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Ben Gets a Flower Crown, Complicated Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Force Bond, Graphic Depictions of Holding Hands, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Pregnancy in the Epilogue, More Like Forced to Bond Am I Right Guys, Post TLJ, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Smut, Space Virgins, When the Force Ships Them as Hard as I Do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2020-09-27 09:16:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 93,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20405317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMoonMoths/pseuds/TheMoonMoths
Summary: Every night, like clockwork, the bond activates, forcing Rey and Ben to confront their feelings. And share a bed.Mayhem ensues.--------------Rey shook her head excitedly. "Snoke is dead, Ben, in case you forgot. Youkilledhim." She earned herself yet another glare. "Why would the Force connect us after that? And the way it keeps happening now, well— it almost feels deliberate. Like itwantssomething from us, don’t you think?"Ben sighed. "I don’t know, Rey. Maybe the Force just has a really twisted sense of humor.""You find any of thisfunny?""I said the Force, notme."She crossed her arms and sank deeper into the chair. Truth be told, this was going about as well as Rey had expected.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my take on Rey and Ben's relationship developing through inopportune Force bond connections that literally nobody asked for, but here it is, anyway.  
This is going to be a slow(ish) burn. If you enjoy angsty, l e n g t h y conversations about feelings (and the eventual fluff and smut, obviously, with a healthy dash of my favorite tropes), consider reading and letting me know what you think!
> 
> For now, do enjoy the first two chapters! <3

Telling the time on Chrona by looking at the sky was next to impossible. Three suns draped the planet in a perpetual, yellow haze that wavered in its intensity but never turned into real night-time. Though it was hard to tell for sure, Rey felt it was getting very late, the most tell-tale sign being the eerie silence in the hangar which at some point had replaced the steady hum of distant chatter.

She had completely lost track of time. Again.

Not that it particularly mattered, though. There was nothing urgent she had to wake up early for. Tomorrow would be exactly the same as today, the same as yesterday, the same as every other day since they’d made planetfall.

After the Battle of Crait, the last surviving scraps of the Resistance had boarded the Falcon and fled to Chrona, a small agriworld deep in the Outer Rim. During the time of the Old Empire, Chrona had become exceedingly prosperous by cultivating unique, genetically modified crops with — supposedly — triple the yield and twice the vitamins of standard ones.

The planet used to be a quilt of fields in every color imaginable. Now all that remained of it was dull grey ash.

Not even four solar cycles ago, the First Order, enticed by the prospects of more efficient nourishment for their millions of troops, had issued a requisition order for all of their present and future harvest. The Chronans answered by salting the earth and putting a torch to all of their fields themselves. Under the thick cover of smoke as their livelihood was being destroyed, the denizens fled, scattering across the galaxy like ashes in the wind and leaving behind a wasteland no longer worthy of the First Order’s attention.

It was, however, a perfect place for a hideout with plenty of abandoned infrastructure and expensive, albeit outdated, farming equipment that could be stripped down for parts and repurposed.

The Resistance had found refuge in what was previously a distribution complex to the east of a vast, dark blue sea. A large hangar now stood empty save for the Falcon, a couple of battered T-70 starfighters and a sole Z-95 Headhunter in dire need of a new coat of paint. The fighters had arrived a couple of days ago from one mission or another in the Core Worlds, having been spared from the recent attack due to sheer luck.

It was here in the hangar where Rey could be found these days. With Chewie’s kind permission, she made herself busy by restoring the Falcon to the best of her ability. Or, at least, trying to. The ship, as it turned out, was truly a piece of junk. The more time Rey spent re-calibrating the sensor transceiver and scavenging rusted machinery to find replacements for what seemed to be a never-ending list of torn wiring, the more she wondered how the Falcon kept managing to take off in the first place.

Rey smirked to herself bitterly, thinking about the irony of the Resistance being wiped out not in some sort of a heroic last-ditch attempt at battling the First Order but because of faulty tachyon venting overheating and blowing them up to smithereens, scattering their remains amongst indifferent stars. 

She also caught herself wondering whether Supreme Leader Ren would be content with _that_ being the anticlimactic end to their war.

If there had been any news on how the First Order was handling their unexpected change in leadership, nobody had deigned to inform Rey. She'd kept silent about her involvement with it because admitting _that_ would mean having to explain her involvement with _him, _and, frankly, she would rather face Snoke again than go down that particular path with anyone at the moment.

Any thought of _him_ nowadays made her mind flash crimson in a gush of panic. She gritted her teeth, pressing on the wrench a little too hard and breaking off a screw in the hyper accelerator she'd been tinkering with for the better part of the day. The screw fell, leaving behind a trail of clinks so obnoxiously loud it was almost like it was mocking her. Rey cursed and got down on all fours, but it was too late. Finding it among the grey floors was simply too taxing of a task for her exhausted, burning eyes. Maybe it was a sign to go to bed and pick the task up tomorrow.

Just as the idea crossed Rey’s mind, a wave of exhaustion hit her all at once, like her body had only just remembered that sleep was something that human beings occasionally required. She got up and stretched, relishing the pleasant burn in her muscles after a good day’s work.

_I must have been up for even longer than usual, _Rey remarked as she descended the ramp, looking at the skyline through the open hangar doors.

The lack of real nights on Chrona was something to get used to. It was the perfect environment for farming but not so much for one’s circadian rhythms. However, though it never got dark, for around three hours each night, the soft citrine tint in the sky was replaced by a deep amber, draping the world in a mighty sunset that turned into a sunrise before it had the change to set. Rey had never witnessed Chrona's interpretation of night-time herself until now, but her overworked body urged her not to linger on the view and head towards her assigned room.

She took solace in the exhaustion, embraced the sluggish pace of her fatigued mind with open arms. Apart from the leadership, at the moment consisting only of General Organa and Commander Dameron, the Resistance members’ only task for now was to lay low and wait for more allies to arrive. Most of them gladly used the opportunity to rest, to heal, to mourn.

Not Rey, though. She could not, _would not_ let herself be bored for even a second because when Rey was bored, her mind started to wander, and when her mind started to wander, she started thinking about things that made her want to howl with resentment, things that made her eyes sting with bitter tears, things that made her so frustrated that she could scream into her pillow until her voice wore out. Rey had spent enough time in her first days doing just that before admitting its futility. No matter how many tears were shed or how much she cursed, it changed absolutely nothing. What was done was done, and there was no coming back from the choices that were made.

Let the past die, and all that. 

Feeling the unwelcome direction her thoughts had once again started straying towards, she slammed the door of her room hard, too hard, with a viciousness that pierced through the silence of the corridor like a thunderbolt. Rey winced, hoping she hadn’t woken anybody up.

Unfortunately for her, she had done just that.

The loud bang had startled the sleeping figure in her bed, and she saw a broad frame jolt upright and outstretch a hand. A split second later, the room flashed with a blinding red glare, accompanied by the violent song of a particular, unstable lightsaber that was all too familiar to her. 

Rey froze, her hand still on the doorknob, eyes wide and in disbelief as her sluggish brain refused to cooperate — too confused to feel anger, fear, anything at all.

It had been nine days since Rey had closed the Falcon doors on Ben while he bore into her with pleading eyes, looking so very _lost._ The bond had been completely dormant since then. Had been. Until now. 

The Supreme Leader of the First Order was kneeling on her bed, his crimson lightsaber raised in a vertical parry, his face bewildered. For a moment the only sound that could be heard was the twisted, electric hum of his blade as both of them stared at each other, utterly transfixed.

Then there was a click, and the lightsaber was switched off, letting the rich amber twilight settle over the room once more.

“_Rey,_” was all Ben managed to whisper as he leaned forward before the connection cut off with sterile, surgical precision.

She remained frozen for a good minute, still staring at the place in her bed where Ben had just been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm also on [Tumblr](https://themoonmoths.tumblr.com/)!


	2. Chapter 2

“KRIFF!” Rey bellowed, smacking the side of the dashboard in sheer frustration.

She'd spent the entire morning tinkering with the Falcon’s cursed hyper accelerator, adjusting the valves in its dilithium infuser and switching out part after part. And yet, every time she pulled the activation switch to test if it worked, the entire cockpit started flashing red as a menacing beeping tolled harshly in her ears.

She was at a loss. The ship would not cooperate today.

Rey considered simply deactivating the alarm system for good and ignoring this particular annoyance for the remainder of her days. But then again, it wasn’t _her_ ship, was it? It wouldn’t be just her life that she would be risking the next time the Falcon took off.

Chewie emerged from the access tunnel, letting out a sympathetic howl in Shyriiwook.

“Yes, I’m alright,” Rey murmured, glaring daggers at the dashboard and flicking the lever to put an end to the noise.

Another inquiry.

“_Yes_, I’m sure,” she answered, perhaps a bit too pointedly. Regretting that immediately, Rey somewhat softened her tone. “It’s just this blasted accelerator that’s driving me mad. I can’t seem to get it working and I’ve tried _everything_.”

A large, shaggy hand landed on her shoulder with enough force to make her knees buckle. Rey placed her hand on top of his, her fingers digging into the thick fur, and produced a small, grateful smile.

Chewie squeezed her shoulder — Rey _almost_ managed not to wince in pain — and urged her to take a break, saying that he would take a look at it himself. She wanted to protest but thought better of it and sighed in defeat.

_He’s just trying to help. Let him help you. _

It was around lunch time, anyway.

* * *

The mess hall was one of Rey’s favorite places in the base. The free access to food never failed to excite her even if it was mostly protein cubes and nutrient paste, a diet that everyone had to endure due to the supply shipment not having come in yet. The only thing that dampened her appetite was the sight of all the empty benches. Even now, during peak lunch hour, there were only a handful of groups scattered across the too large hall. The painful reminder of all that had become of the Resistance sometimes made Rey take the food up to her room and eat alone.

Just as she finished filling her pockets with as much protein cubes as they could carry, a loud hollering from the corner of the hall caught her attention. She turned around and laughed, recognizing its source as Finn, with Rose sitting across from him, waving her arms around and gesturing for Rey to join.

A surge of warmth bloomed through her as she made her way over.

“Rey, finally!” Finn chastised, pulling her into a tight hug after Rey had sat down next to him. “We were beginning to think you’ve discovered how to eat the Force or something.”

“I… what?” Rey burst into laughter.

Finn shrugged. “I said _or something._ Who knows what kind of freaky Jedi stuff Skywalker taught you? I wouldn’t even be surprised.”

Still chuckling, Rey shook her head.

“Believe me, if that were an option, I would do it just to freak you both out.”

“Is that so?” Rose narrowed her eyes in mock suspicion, barely holding back a grin. “How come you don’t have any food with you then, you treacherous Force-eater?”

Rey wiggled her eyebrows and triumphantly emptied the contents of her pockets onto the table, eliciting another burst of laughter from all around.

“It was a pretty good theory, though, you gotta admit,” said Finn, after they had calmed down and resumed eating. Rey simply nodded, unable to speak with three protein cubes stuffed in her mouth.

Silence followed, but it was of the comfortable kind, the kind found only after a rare, special moment whose fragile spell would be broken as soon as somebody spoke. So they didn’t. At least not for a while.

As Rey was licking the last vestiges of purple jelly straight out of the packet, Rose spoke up.

“So…” She exchanged a quick look with Finn. “What _did_ Skywalker teach you?”

Rey felt a familiar stab of guilt.

This was something she planned on sharing with Finn as soon as they landed on Chrona, but the right moment never came. He had been so _preoccupied_ with Rose that Rey simply didn’t wish to intrude with her depressing tales of the many failures of the Jedi Order and Luke Skywalker.

When she'd first spotted Finn and Rose together, it hurt her. Viciously.

It wasn’t jealously — at least, not of the romantic kind — but more like a foreboding sense of loss upon realizing that she could never have Finn's undivided adoration in quite the same way ever again. The most frustrating part was that Rey understood it perfectly. Rose was _lovely_. She was warm sunlight to Rey’s scorched sand. Rose was a lot more perceptive, a lot friendlier, a lot more forgiving, whereas Rey… Rey was tired. And so she had distanced herself from the couple, retreating to the hangar and drowning herself in work. She realized now how much she’d missed, _needed, _this camaraderie.

Many of the benches in the hall may be empty, but she still had friends that could fill at least some of them. She needed to remind that to herself more often.

Misinterpreting Rey’s silence, Rose shifted uncomfortably.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have asked!” She winced. “The Jedi Order is _super_ secretive, I get it. Again, sorry, forget I—”

“I’m not a Jedi! I wish people would stop calling me that,” Rey confessed, “and, truth be told, I don’t think I’ll ever be one, either.”

Finn and Rose glanced at each other in surprise.

“Besides,” Rey continued, “we didn’t even have time to cover the basics, and Force-sensitives used to study in Luke’s temple for _years_. I was there for barely two days before I had to leave.”

“Rey, you gotta tell us _everything_,” Finn could barely contain his excitement. “And then you’ll finally hear about Canto Bight— or more like what’s left of it.”

“Yes! Let’s go for a walk, I found this amazing beach with these giant boulders and white sand not that far from here, we can all go, and..” Rose got quiet and looked into the distance. “Wait…Two days?” She frowned. “You were gone for quite a bit longer than that. What did you do the rest of the time?”

_Kriff._

* * *

All in all, their beach day went smoothly. Rey hadn’t spent much time with Rose, but everything she learned about her on that alabaster coast made Rey like her even more. Apart from her annoyingly perceptive mind, that is.

She was forced to concoct a completely ridiculous tale about seeing a foreboding vision (entirely false), and getting Luke’s blessing (somewhat false) to go on a rescue mission (somewhat true) of a Force-sensitive child (entirely true).

Rey couldn’t _believe_ Finn had bought it. The cover-up was so flimsy it made Rey cringe just thinking about it. Rose, however, asked questions. Many, _many_ questions. So many that, at one point, Rey considered using the Force to purge that particular story from their memories for good. She didn’t, of course, and luckily the conversation soon moved on to far more pleasant topics such as the crazy adventure Finn and Rose had had on Canto Bight.

They spent the rest of the day laughing, sharing stories of their past and talking about nothing in particular. Rose taught them how to skip stones, and they wasted hours trying to out-do each other’s record until the salty air made them too hungry and drowsy to linger.

A tiny but insistent voice in Rey’s head wanted to rebel against this unexpected happiness, whispering that their stay on Chrona wasn’t a vacation but rather a wake, that they should be mourning the dead instead of skipping stones. But, stars, they were alive _right now_, and this might be their last chance to be careless; a First Order Dreadnaught could swoop in at any moment and that would be the end of it. At that moment, it felt _good_ to be alive, and Rey wasn’t going to take it for granted.

About half-way back to the base, Rey suddenly noticed that she was alone despite having discussed her plans for tomorrow with the couple mere minutes ago. Then she heard a faint giggling and the rustling of leaves coming from some nearby bushes.

Mildly horrified, she quickened her step and fled straight to her bedroom, not being in the mood for dinner anymore.

The sky was the same old pale-yellow so not quite the dead of night yet, but Rey’s heavy lids made for a very convincing argument. She strode across her room to close the curtains, blessedly made out of a rough, obsidian-colored fabric and perfect for blocking out the persistent Chrona suns.

When she turned around, there was a tall figure standing completely still just a couple of feet away from her, watching her intensely.

She almost yelped from fright but managed to hold it together, only _slightly_ flinching in response, and Rey pressed a hand to her wildly beating heart.

It was hard to tell in the semi-darkness — thank you, curtains — but she thought Ben looked the same as she remembered, wearing his regular all-black ensemble. She supposed she had expected something— _grander,_ with him being the new Supreme Leader of the kriffing galaxy. Perhaps a black satin cape, embroidered with the insignia of the First Order. Or maybe a delicate silver circlet stretching out around his head like vines with a single, sparkling ruby in the middle. Not that she had wondered, though.

“You are going to be the death of me someday, one way or another,” she hissed, adrenaline coursing through her veins.

“Nice to see you too.”

Ben had that annoying, haughty expression on his face that instantly reminded Rey of the first time she'd seen him without his mask on.

“What, no lightsaber to greet me with this time?” Rey asked. She was not in the mood.

Ben shrugged. “You surprised me yesterday. It had been a while since our last— meeting.”

Odd, how only in a little more than week she'd managed to forget the effect his velvet-lined baritone had on her defenses. Rey shook her head in a largely futile effort to unhear it.

“It’s happening again,” Ben said.

“Believe me, I’ve _noticed_.” Rey was _really_ not in the mood.

As her eyes adjusted to the twilight, she could finally take in his features. The same piercing eyes, the dark brown irises gleaming black in the dim light. Ivory skin with a smattering of freckles and tiny birth marks that made him look deceptively young. The long scar, courtesy of Rey, stretching across the right side of his face and healing nicely. Raven hair that framed his face in a neat array of curls. Lips that seemed almost too plush for his sharp, masculine features.

He looked— _miserable_. Prominent, dark circles stood out against a complexion that was worryingly pale even for him, and Rey realized that what she had originally interpreted as haughtiness was actually sheer exhaustion.

Ben lifted a hand up to his face to stifle a yawn.

“You done?” he asked with just a hint of amusement, and a wave of embarrassment crushed through Rey. He whirled around and, by the time she realized where he was headed, it was already too late. Ben had a good head start on her as well as the added benefit of his cursedly long legs.

“That is _my_ bed, you cretin!” Rey protested as he unceremoniously plopped down on it and stretched.

“Your bed?” Ben yawned again, scooting up even further. “Sure, Rey.”

Rey started crossing the room, not yet having decided between pulling him out, yelling at him some more, or, perhaps, a healthy mix of both. Before she could choose, however, Ben started to undress, freezing Rey in her place.

His fingers unlaced his boots with dexterity he should absolutely not possess, quickly followed by his socks and belt. Then, as she was still processing what was happening in front of her very eyes, _in her very bed, _he was pulling off his tunic and undershirt in one, swift move.

Rey was at a loss. She wasn’t going to wrestle him _now_. The child had won the battle.

At the sight of Ben starting to unbutton his absurdly high waisted pants, Rey crossed her arms and turned away, cheeks now burning red hot.

“This is ridiculous,” she growled in defeat.

There was a sound of fabric falling to the floor and sheets rustling as Ben was settling in for the night, and when he finally responded, his voice was slightly muffled. “I know.”

Rey turned around to hurl more insults at him only to find that he, too, had turned his back to her and scooted as far towards the opposite edge of the bed as his frame would allow, practically pressing himself into the wall and — _the nerve_ — leaving behind some space.

As if she would even _consider_—

“It’s okay, you know.” His voice was fainter now, quieter. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

* * *

That night, as she listened to Chewie’s snoring from the guest quarters of the Millennium Falcon, Rey tried to imagine a green meadow, but the only thing she could see was scorched fields.


	3. Chapter 3

_It could’ve been worse, _Rey kept repeating to herself, but even in her mind it sounded more like a plea than a consolation.

She had made her way to the Millennium Falcon and climbed onboard, careful not to make any noise and wake up Chewie. Knowing that there would be absolutely no rational explanation as to why she was suddenly avoiding sleeping _in her own room_ and having just recently confirmed that she was, in fact, atrocious at coming up with an excuse, Rey’s plan had been to sneak onto the ship, sleep for a few hours and leave at dawn, with Chewie none the wiser. 

The good news was that she had successfully managed to get to the guest quarters without making any noise and that the padding of the bunk, located in a narrow, black alcove, still retained a pleasant amount of give.

The bad news was that she couldn’t get any sleep anyway.

As luck would have it, she had roommates — a family of porgs had used a decrepit Dejarik board in the middle of the room as the base for their nest. Pitch black, accusatory eyes kept gawking at Rey — who did her very best to return the favor — as a steady barrage of exasperated chirps went on at _just_ the right volume to keep her from properly drifting off without waking up Chewie who, in turn, was doing his best impression of a wounded caniphant gasping for its last breath.

The Cacophony of Porg and Wookie played on, and Rey had no choice but to listen so she merely closed her eyes and tried to think of something serene, something green.

It was futile.

She was relieved when the chrono at the foot of the alcove finally showed it was time to go.

_Still, it could’ve been worse. _

* * *

Due to the early hour, the mess hall was even emptier than usual, but a very pleasant surprise awaited her. Off-world supplies had finally come in, and the delicious smell of real _food_ made her mouth water in anticipation. Rey had to stop herself from sprinting up to the buffet.

She quickly filled her plate with a massive helping of Vakiir egg omelet and garden salad as the kitchen worker, a Cerean with kind eyes and a braid down to her waist, giggled at her enthusiasm and bid her good morning. Rey also poured herself some caf, despite not being a big fan of the beverage. It was clear that she could do with the energy boost if she were to make it until the evening without collapsing.

She tried to eat slowly, both to savor the breakfast and to kill time. Rey kept glancing at the doors, expecting Finn and Rose to show up, but time went on, the pile of food on the plate kept shrinking — despite her best efforts to slow it down—- and they were still nowhere to be seen. Not really knowing anyone else currently in the hall well enough to chat, she ate alone.

As Rey was finishing munching on the salad, she spotted General Organa and Commander Dameron entering the hall with a happily beeping BB-8 in tow. She had scarcely seen either of them since landing on Chrona as the vast majority of their time was spent behind locked doors, with the pair only coming out to eat before swiftly retreating back to the dusty sanctuary that was the comms room.

They sat down at the table nearest to the entrance with Rey’s gaze glued to General Organa’s frame — so fragile in the soft citrine sunlight. She seemed smaller, somehow, her face gaunt and unusually weary even for her as she listened to something Dameron was murmuring, nodding occasionally. Perhaps their talks with potential allies weren’t going as well as they’d expected. The General's eyes, however, still shone with the same old resilience, the same old ethereal promise that, yes, it _will_ be alright in the end. It will all have been worth it.

Organa caught Rey’s awed gaze from across the hall and nodded to her in a silent greeting, her faint smile so benevolent, so _understanding_ it made Rey’s heart constrict into a knot as she returned the gesture.

How was she feeling, now that the leader of the biggest of all evils was her own son? Had she finally given up all hope for him? Should Rey tell her what happened, keeps happening, between them?

Would it even change anything? 

* * *

Rey returned to the Falcon with a pile of Jogan fruit in her arms and deep in thought.

Chewie was up, sitting completely still in the pilot’s chair, a frozen carbonite statue vacantly looking at the horizon.

Rey coughed to make her presence known, startling him out of his reverie. She placed the fruit on the dashboard, arranging them into a neat line.

“For you,” she said. “I know they’re your favorite, and I wasn’t sure how long they’d last. When word spreads about the shipment, it’s going to be mayhem down there.”

A grateful growl was followed by a smack on her shoulder. Rey would’ve faceplanted right into the controls had she not steadied herself with her hands against the dashboard. Now _that_ would be a fitting end for the last Jedi.

“You’re welcome,” Rey replied as she rubbed the pain out of the abused shoulder and spun on her heel. “I’ll be the storage lockers if you need me, wanted to take a look at the power converters.”

She had just entered the access tunnel when she heard the Wookiee call her back.

Rey’s heart jumped. Did he know about last night? Perhaps she hadn’t been as sneaky as she’d thought, Rey _had_ banged her head against the top of the alcove in the dark and grunted, and the porgs had _squealed_ at that. Stars, could she do _anything_ right?

But when she returned and gathered courage to look up to his face, all of her worries were immediately put on halt by the haunted expression in Chewie’s eyes.

“What is it?” Rey asked, frowning. He simply kept looking at her, seemingly hesitant.

She put a hand on his shoulder and repeated, squeezing his shoulder in reassurance. “What is it, Chewie?”

He then got up and bid her to follow.

With Rey on his heels, they made their way through the dusty interior of the freighter and into the captain’s quarters. Never having been inside the room, she was pleasantly surprised. Chewie kept it spotless, the white panels in the walls practically gleaming with the reflected light.

The furniture itself was quite modest — apart from the bed-side table with a cylindrical lamp and a fitness nook in the corner, the only other notable element was the bed. Just like in the guest quarters, it was also in an alcove, with warm orange panels all around and—

A porg was on it, jumping up and down in excitement. The Wookiee growled in annoyance as he approached the alcove and batted his hand at the bird. All it did was make it chirp louder and move one step away. 

Rey came closer, her growing confusion clear on her face.

Then he finally explained.

That morning Chewie was on the verge of finishing deep-cleaning the room, a process that taken him multiple days, when he accidentally came across a hidden compartment. One that, as it turned out, had remained undiscovered through the Falcon’s many ‘ownership changes’ since Han.

And there was something in it he wanted to show her.

He then gave a good whack to a panel right above the pillows in the alcove, the loud noise startling both the porg and Rey. The panel flung open like a small door.

Rey stretched out her neck from behind Chewie’s shoulder and held her breath in anticipation. The space behind the panel revealed a vast assortment of items — Rey thought she spotted a stack of credit chips, a couple of display disks, a scattering of random knick-knacks that would require a closer inspection, a small vial of bright blue liquid that illuminated its surroundings like a lamp. But Chewie paid no mind to any of it, despite Rey’s scavengers instincts kicking in and _screaming_ that she should take out every last item of this treasure cove and examine it for hours, that it was a puzzle of Han Solo’s life, one that she could assemble right _now_, if only—

Chewie reached into the very back of the compartment and carefully took something out.

It was a piece of paper, slightly yellow with old age, its delicate frailty somehow reminding her of General Organa. Chewie outstretched his hand towards her, holding the paper between two fingers in fear of crumpling it. She took it from him with bated breath and sat down on the bed, with Chewie following suit.

It took a few seconds for her to realize what she was looking at. She'd excepted a document of some sort, perhaps a love letter, but there was no writing on it at all. Instead she was greeted by a flurry of somewhat faded colors that started to form into patterns, shapes—

Then she saw it. Rey realized that what she was looking at was a child’s drawing.

She could feel her heart beating in her throat. Rey looked up at Chewie, but he'd already retreated back to his previous, uncharacteristically contemplative self, staring at the wall with unseeing eyes and lost in thought.

Rey pulled her entire focus back to the priceless glimpse into a long-lost past in her slightly trembling hands, studying it with ferociousness she hadn’t felt since she was back on Jakku and first seen a holovid of the ocean. She realized that the countless, tiny flickers of different colors were lights on a dashboard, above them a different set of dots, these ones yellow. Stars. The interior of the cockpit was crudely drawn but detailed, with every pane in the transparisteel viewport, nearly every lever and button in their place.

_He must’ve drawn it right here from life_.

But what fascinated her the most wasn’t the details of the ship — it was the two slightly misshapen figures in the center.

They were sitting with their backs to the dashboard, grinning directly at Rey. The larger figure was in the co-pilot’s chair, wearing dark blue pants, a white shirt and two thick, black stripes that indicated a vest, jagged spikes of brown hair almost covering the two brown dots that stood for eyes.

The much smaller figure was in the other chair, feet dangling over the edge of the seat. He was dressed just like his father, save for the vest, his medium-length raven hair a jumble of messy, black strokes.

Behind him, behind the viewport was a vast, welcoming galaxy beckoning the boy to see it all.

The little Ben Solo had wanted nothing more than to become a pilot.

Rey’s vision got blurry and she promptly put the drawing on the nightstand. Despite her best efforts to keep it together, a tiny, trembling breath escaped her lips. She wasn’t even sure what she was so upset about — Ben, Han, the _unfairness_ of it all.

_Stars, he wanted to become a pilot._

Their grins were forever frozen in a far gentler time, a time when the universe made sense, and stories had happy endings.

Chewie hugged her then, and Rey clung to him with nauseating desperation that she usually kept hidden far beneath the surface. With her face burrowed in his chest, vision obscured by the fur, it felt safe, somehow, and she stopped holding back the tears.

They sat like that for a while, holding each other.

Then he wept a question.

“I don’t know, Chewie,” she replied through gritted teeth. “I don’t understand it, either.”

* * *

This time, when night came, she was ready.

Rey’s assigned room was located in a duracrete building connected to the hangar, previously used as housing for farm-hands arriving from other worlds for a solar cycle or two to earn some money. Now abandoned, it had enough space to house the last of the Resistance. She had overheard some grumbling about the rooms being too cramped. Rey couldn’t disagree more.

The fact that she had her own ‘fresher was a luxury in itself, especially after suffering through the traumatizing experience that was communal ones on D’Qar. All the furniture — the bed, nightstand, closet, desk and the shelf by the door — was made out of deep, smoky redwood that contrasted nicely with the constant, yellow light. In the corner of the room stood a plush armchair lined with red velvet which was where Rey was perched, waiting and reflecting, her thoughts — like they always did in moments like these — constantly circling back to Ben.

He was the porg infestation to her Millennium Falcon. Always there, in the back of her mind, always demanding attention and, oh, so _annoying_. But, for better or worse, she didn’t have it in her to get rid of it, get rid of _him._ The Force clearly wanted something from the two of them, and maybe, just maybe, if they figured out what it was, they could both be free to pursue their destiny.

She had dozed off for an hour or two, when she felt the gentle stirrings of the Force shift around her. 

Ben materialized in front of her, seemingly in just as bad of a shape as yesterday, his dark circles looking almost like bruises against his disturbingly pale complexion and the same, sullen expression on his face. He was wearing his cape this time, the fancy-looking black armorweave one that almost reached the floor.

He glanced at Rey and _sighed_.

_This is going to go great, _Rey thought, already bracing herself for battle.

“Bad day?” she quipped, trying to sound cheerful and failing miserably.

Ben just glared at her.

Stars, why couldn’t he make this easy for her, at least _once_? The conversation she wanted them to have was bad enough as it was.

“Listen,” she tried, as Ben turned his back to her and shrugged off his cloak, hanging it on a hook that she couldn’t see. The second he let go of the fabric, it vanished into thin air. “We need to talk.”

“Do we?” he replied, staring at the spot where his cloak had disappeared and sounding as disinterred as humanly possible.

“We do,” she urged, leaning forward in her chair. “I’ve been thinking about our— our connection. It has to be for a reason, right?”

Ben looked at her as if she were suddenly speaking Huttese.

“It _was_ for a reason. Snoke set it up, remember? To try and manipulate us. You should know this, Rey, you were there when he revealed it.”

She shook her head excitedly. “But then why does it keep _happening_? He’s dead, Ben, in case you forgot. You _killed_ him.” She earned herself another glare. “Why would the Force connect us after that? And the way it keeps happening now, well— it almost feels deliberate. Like it _wants_ something from us, don’t you think?”

Ben sighed. “I don’t know, Rey. Maybe the Force just has a really twisted sense of humor.”

Rey frowned. “You find any of this _funny_?”

“I said the Force, not _me._”

She crossed her arms and sank deeper into her chair. Truth be told, this was going about as well as she had expected.

Ben sat down on the edge of the bed, looking into the distance. As Rey was weighing out her options as to how best get through that thick skull of his, Ben spoke up.

“Where did you go last night?”

“What?” Rey blinked, momentarily taken aback by the swift change in topic.

“You heard me.” Ben made eye contact from the other side of the room, his gaze cool and detached. “Where did you go last night?”

“Oh.” She shifted in her seat. Why was he always so _difficult_? She considered chiding him about how she can go and sleep where she pleases, thank you very much, but decided it would be easier for everyone to just give a straight answer. “I slept on the Falcon. In the guest quarters.”

“On the Falcon,” he echoed slowly.

A tiny pain jabbed at her heart in the shape of a naïve, raven-haired boy with nothing but the endless promise of the galaxy behind him. “I barely slept — thanks for asking, by the way — the porgs kept waking me up.”

Ben shook his head in confusion. “The porgs?”

“Yes, the porgs. They’re an avian species with _huge _eyes and cute, flat faces. Completely harmless, but, stars, can they get on your nerves—”

“I know what porgs are,” Ben interrupted. “Why are they on the Falcon?”

“They settled in while Chewie and I were on Ahch-To.”

Ben looked incredulous. “They’re pests. Why didn’t he get rid of them?”

Rey, against her better judgment, felt herself growing defensive. “I guess Chewie became fond of them at some point. Besides, they’re not _that_ bad. That’s what you have to do sometimes, you know. Adapt to the circumstances.”

“I would hardly call enduring a pest infestation _adapting to the circumstances_.”

“You’ve clearly never lived in the desert, then. Sometimes you can’t be picky about the company you’ve been given. Especially when you’re alone.”

A lengthy silence ensued.

There was tension in the room, the link between them full of unspoken words fizzling through the air.

Ben’s dispassionate mask slowly bled into one of barely held-back frustration, tiny bursts of it — a nerve twitching under his left eye, fists momentarily clenching before being let go — rippling to the surface like flashes of lightning in a storm.

“So, what, are you saying that you’ll _endure_ me because Force wills it so?” he scoffed. “What an _honor_, Rey, thank you.”

His pointed tone stung. 

“I’m saying that I’m _trying_,” she hissed through gritted teeth. “Trying to make sense of it, of you. Of us. Trying, despite every _inch_ of my better judgment telling me otherwise.”

Another hefty pause. Ben’s intense gaze was now fixed on the wall. Apparently looking at Rey made him too angry. Wonderful.

“Why bother?” he addressed the beige wallpaper.

“What do you mean?”

“Why bother trying?” He clenched his jaw. “You still hate me.”

_Because I want to understand, _she wanted to scream but didn’t.

“I can’t just ignore what you’ve done,” Rey said slowly, with every word feeling like a traveler finding her way through a bog. “But I also can’t ignore what happened to us. Between us. I don’t hate you, Ben Solo. I can’t find it within me to hate you, not after—”

Her voice got dangerously close to breaking so she inhaled to steady herself. “Not after everything.”

Ben Solo, the one who had that mighty Skywalker blood and had chosen the dark. The one who was trained in the ways of the Jedi and the Sith and had rejected both. The one who didn’t hate his father but had killed him anyway. The one who called Rey nothing and offered her the galaxy. The Jedi Killer who refused to kill the Last Jedi.

_I want to understand you. _

“Ben,” she whispered, and finally, _finally _he looked at her, his eyes roving hers with barely reined in desperation akin to hunger. “We can try again.”

* * *

The connection cut off shortly after, the silence weighing heavily on Rey as she collapsed on the bed. A thousand completely conflicting emotions tore at her so she chose to feel nothing at all and plunged into a deep, dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've managed to read this far, I want to personally thank each and every one of you for suffering through all this angst with me (I hope you're all okay!) and the unexpected amount of support I've received so far! You guys are the best, honestly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've reached 100 kudos! T h a n k y o u a l l !!!
> 
> Quick note - I got a new laptop, so the formatting will be slightly different (to put it politely) this chapter, but I'll do my best to work it out in the future!
> 
> This will be a long one, so buckle up, buttercups!

The next day started with Rey bringing breakfast to Chewie.

  
They were sitting in the Falcon’s galley, which— as Rey found out while pouring more sweetener into her porridge— was installed as a wedding gift from Han Solo to Leia Organa. Rey’s initial reaction had been sardonic bemusement — Leia, one of the most powerful political figures at the time, a woman who practically lived in assembly halls, getting a kriffing _kitchen_ from her husband.

  
But the more she turned it over in her head, the more Rey realized the gift wasn’t about installing any particular amenities onto the freighter. It was a promise. A promise that, no matter where Leia went, there would always be a place to return to with someone always waiting for her there. It was a promise of a home, and _that_ was an idea Rey could accept wholeheartedly even though in her nineteen years of life she was yet to find a place she could even remotely call by that sacred name.

  
_ Someday I will, though_, she thought to herself. _Someday_.

  
The Wookiee didn’t say anything else on the matter, and Rey didn’t want to prod. Chewie was evidently still in a melancholic mood, slurping on his porridge and shooing away weepy-eyed porgs with less drive than usual so she decided her best course of action would be to pull his attention away from the sensitive topic.

"Did you manage to take a look at the hyper accelerator?" she asked, mixing some cyanoberries into the remainders of her porridge.

Chewie growled in the affirmative, the gloom in his face somewhat clearing up. He explained that the fault wasn’t actually in the accelerator but rather in the main power converter which, in its ripe old age, had grown tired of providing an equal level of current for all the ship’s systems.

"The power converter?" Rey scrunched her nose. "Explains why I couldn’t find the fault in the accelerator, I suppose. How do we fix it?"

Apparently its thermal infuser chip was in need of replacing, but it had to be one compatible with the electrical grid of the Falcon.

"So what you’re saying is that we need to find an old thermal infuser chip?"

Rey laughed at Chewie’s reply. "A _very _old one, got it."

It was at that moment when intercoms across the entire makeshift base sparked to life, and the sound of crinkling static filled the air. Rey instantly grasped the seat of her chair, shoulders tense and alert. The speaker cleared their throat.

"_Uhh, I really hope this thing’s working, it’s been sitting here collecting dust for years… Yeah— okay— I see Kieron giving me a thumbs up. Thanks, Kieron!_"

Rey recognized the voice as belonging to Commander Dameron and relaxed her grip. If it were a warning of an incoming attack, surely it wouldn’t start like _that_.

  
"_So—_" Poe cleared his throat again. "_General Organa and I have been kind of radio silent for a while, and we apologize for that. Let’s all meet in the briefing area in an hour, and we’ll give you guys an update. Sound good? No, you don’t have to answer, I know it does. Briefing area. Top floor. One hour. See ya_."

* * *

The briefing area was located on the top floor of a duracrete high-rise overlooking a row of hulking, identical warehouses near the hangar. Most of the room was taken up by an oval, freshly dusted off redwood table with a holoprojector sitting neatly in the middle. Windows covered the entire outer wall of the top floor and Rey could spot the sparkling of the sea somewhere in the distance, far beyond the confines of the somber-looking distribution centre. As beautiful as the view was, it was _hot_ up here, all of the glass in the windows concentrating the suns’ rays into what felt like a furnace.

  
Already sensing beads of sweat forming at the back of her neck, Rey plopped down next to Finn and wondered whether the decision not to build windows that open or adding curtains was a deliberate design choice to force Chronans into concluding their meetings faster. She was about to find out. 

  
The was the first time she’d seen the remaining Resistance members in one place since they’d made planetfall — around twenty altogether, not counting the droids. Rey had seen all of them around the base but could only put a name to a couple of the faces. They all knew about her, though, referring to her as That Jedi Girl, and Rey had promised herself time and time again to put aside a few hours to properly introduce herself around — if not to outright make friends then to at least stop people from addressing her by the inaccurate moniker.

  
She spotted Commander Dameron already seated at one end of the table, with C-3PO to his right. General Organa was standing to their left, discussing something with Rose under her breath.

  
Before Rey could figure out what the two of them would have to talk about, she felt a gentle nudge to her side.

  
"Hey, Jedi," Finn whispered fondly, but there was an unusual glint of wariness in his eyes.

  
"Hey, yourself, " Rey replied and — just like every other time she saw her friend — was unable to hold back a smile.

  
He then hesitated, his expression twisting into something akin to remorse. "Listen, I’ve been meaning to apologize about the way we disappeared on you at the beach."

  
_Oh. That._

  
"It’s fine!" Rey was quick to answer. "Really!"

  
"No, it’s not, that was not cool, leaving you alone like that—"

  
"No, really, Finn. Don’t worry about it! I understand. Young love and all that."

The smile that had came so easily just a second ago now had to be coerced with conscious effort, and Rey pulled the corners of her mouth upwards, hoping it looked believable enough to put a stop to the conversation for good. 

  
He nodded, seemingly satisfied. "We’ll make it up to you soon, I promise."

  
Rose had finished her conversation and was now making her way over. She waved to Rey in passing and settled on the other side of Finn who raised his eyebrows at her in a silent question.

  
"The General wants me to take a look at the climate controls after the meeting is over. I offered to go now, but she said we would need someone up here in case the droids start melting," Rey heard her whisper and stifled a laugh.

  
Commander Dameron looked around, frowning. He then reached out to his right and gave C-3PO’s back two good whacks, the loud clang of metal immediately breaking up the chatter around the table.

  
"Why, this is _most_ inappropriate," the droid protested as Poe’s eyes glimmered with amusement. "Surely there are ways to silence the room without resorting to brutish _violence_."

  
"You’ll be fine, buddy," Poe smiled, and nodded to the General who was standing by observing the scene, thoroughly unimpressed.

  
Rey suddenly wished she had gotten to know Poe Dameron the way Finn and Rose had, back when he wasn’t always up to his neck with leadership duties. She had a feeling they would get along splendidly.

  
The General clasped her hands in front of her and began.

  
"I’ll try to make this as brief as possible — I don’t think any of us want to linger in this stifling heat for long."

  
A murmur of agreement passed through the room.

  
She then paused, mouth tightening into a straight line.

  
"I know this hasn’t been easy on any of you, sitting around idly while the First Order have uncontested reign over the galaxy. You must be wondering — maybe not out loud, but just to yourselves — has this all been for nothing?"

  
The General looked around and sighed.

"My friends. We’ve suffered a terrible, unimaginable loss." Her eyes scanned every single one of the solemn faces around the the table, but it was a solemnity that carefully disguised a fervent need to believe. Perhaps it was the sweltering air or maybe it was the Force itself, but the room was trembling with it, anticipatory. "Let this loss not be in vain. Remember — the darkest nights reveal the brightest of stars."

  
The room had grown quiet enough to hear a pin drop. "My brave friends. There is still hope in the galaxy. And there always will be."

  
Organa’s hands were trembling now, clutching at the edge of the table. Poe rushed to get up, putting a hand around her shoulder to help her sit down. The General waved him away impatiently, taking a seat without his aid.

  
Poe was the next to speak, occasionally glancing at the General with worry. "Just so we’re clear — we haven’t been sitting by twiddling our thumbs. We’re not out of the woods yet, but, just like the General said, there is hope. We’ve been talking with representatives from Naboo, Kashyyyk and Ryloth, among others. They will join us when the time is right."

  
"The time _was_ right a week ago. Where were they?" a cold, feline voice asked. It belonged to a white-haired Ferroan woman. "Why didn’t they come when we needed them the most?"

  
"Because it was too late," the General replied sullenly. "We were caught off guard, under siege — you must look at it from their point of view — there was nothing that could be done. Arriving on Crait would mean exposing themselves to the First Order for a minuscule chance of success, they couldn’t take the risk."

  
"We need to be smart about this," Poe continued, pressing his hands against the table, "which means not drawing any attention to us _or_ our potential allies. They will discreetly provide us with enough funds to start rebuilding our fleet, get the supplies that we urgently need. It will take time, yes, but we will use it to gather our strength and prepare so that when the right moment comes _we_ can be the ones catching the First Order off guard."

  
Wiping some sweat off his brow with the back of his hand, Poe continued. "Guys, I’ve been itching to fight just as much as you have, but this — and I can’t believe I’m saying this — this is _not_ the time for rash action. We have one massive advantage. The First Order thinks that we’re done, that we’re not a threat anymore. Let’s keep it that way, let them grow complacent, careless. Let them feel safe and grow distracted. That’s when we’ll strike them down once and for all."

  
The room thrummed with murmurs of appreciation. Rey could feel it in the Force, timid and shining — a new hope.

  
Force or no Force, Poe must have felt the shift of energy too as a slight, playful smirk rose on his lips. "Speaking of the First Order, I have some good news. As most of you have probably heard, they have a new Supreme Leader."

  
Rey exhaled. She'd expected this topic to come up eventually, but it still didn’t make it any less painful.

  
_ This must be a hundred times worse for General Organa_, she thought, glancing at the woman whose face was the very definition of dispassionate. Her hands, however, were clutching the side of the desk so hard her knuckles had turned white. No one else seemed to be noticing — they were busy hanging on to Poe's every word.

  
"It’s unclear what happened to Snoke. We’ve received conflicting reports so let’s forget about him for the moment and assume he’s out of the picture. Now—" Poe’s smirk grew even wider. "Not many of you have had the pleasure of meeting Kylo Ren in person like I have. If you're interested, Finn and Rey over there also have some _wonderful_ stories."

  
As heads turned towards them, Finn made himself busy by staring at the holoprojector as if it was suddenly the most interesting object he’d ever seen. Rey was still looking straight at the General.

  
_She still hadn’t told them_, she realized._ Any of them_.

  
"Kylo Ren is very gifted with the Force, one of the strongest in the galaxy. He’s also an excellent fighter, gotta give credit where credit’s due. Supposedly, on the battlefield, just the sight of him with the mask and that crazy lightsaber of his is often enough to frighten people into surrender. Not that he takes prisoners. Spooky, right? And now he’s the Supreme Leader."

  
Poe’s eyes positively shined with glee. "So why am I happy about this? Kylo Ren is many things, but a natural born leader of a gigantic military junta is not one of them. He’s the guy you send down to the field to do your dirty work, not loom over a conference table, debating the implementation of new hyperspace routes in the Expansion Region. Frankly, we’re not sure how he even got the job over Hux, unless he—" Poe glanced at Organa who gave him an almost imperceptible shake of her head. "Anyway, the guy’s not cut out for this, and everyone knows it, which is good for us."

  
"I can attest to that," Finn chimed in. "His temper tantrums were notorious. Whenever something didn’t go his way, he used to whip out his lightsaber and hack everything he could reach to bits. If we ever heard random tumbling and crashing in the distance, we knew we needed to get as _far_ away as possible. I remember this one time when my buddy VL-1509 was bringing him dinner. He came back with six broken ribs. Ren had smashed him into the wall just because he’d caught him at a bad time."

  
Poe nodded. "Ren’s way too unstable to be put in such a position of power. And I didn’t even get to the good part yet. We’ve recently acquired some intel that Hux and Ren are already at each other’s throats. Daily. They apparently have some — how do I put this — _clashing _views as to how the First Order should be run."

  
"Why doesn’t Ren get rid of Hux then? If he’s the Supreme Leader, why would he keep around a hostile underling like that?" asked a young, chestnut-haired man who Rey vaguely recognized as one of the pilots.

  
"I’m so glad you asked, Kieron!" Poe beamed. "You see, Ren can’t get rid of Hux because he needs a diplomat and a tactician by his side. So now they are stuck in this bizarre limbo of hate where Ren knows that Hux will try a coup any _day_ now but can’t do anything about it. We genuinely might get lucky, and the First Order could split and collapse from the inside without us even lifting a finger!"

  
Poe looked around triumphantly, his excitement seeping off onto others as the many cautious faces began to smile back at him. "Not bad, huh? What did we tell you, guys? There is still _a_ _lot_ of hope in the galaxy."

  
Rey finally caught General Organa’s gaze from across the room. They were the only people not smiling. She knew they were both thinking of the same thing.

* * *

Night came, and Ben was still nowhere to be seen. 

  
Rey had been lying on her bed for what seemed like hours, shifting through the Rammahgon, one of the Jedi texts, and turning drowsier by the minute. They were all written in a language that was unfamiliar to her so R2-D2 had translated the texts and downloaded them onto a datapad. Rey wasn’t in the mood to do any heavy reading, though, so she was slowly browsing the illustrations instead.

  
There was one in particular that caught her eye. It was of a Jedi wearing a grey, hooded robe with golden lining. He was on the top of a hill, levitating a few inches off the ground. To the left of him stretched a view of a crimson desert with a scorching sun overlooking it all, to the right — a vast, dark ocean under countless stars and a bright blue moon.

  
A balance.

  
Outside, pale-yellow light was slowly growing deeper, changing into the color of whiskey. Rey rubbed her eyes — she'd stayed up waiting for too long.

  
Just when she was about to call it a day and change into her sleeping shirt, she felt a familiar rippling, a signal of a bridge being rapidly built across the galaxy.

  
Ben was facing away from her, sitting by the desk with his chin propped up in one hand, hunched over something invisible to her. For a few moments, Rey thought he hadn’t noticed the bond opening up so she simply observed the way the ends of his hair caught the golden light. 

  
He turned his head and looked straight at her over his shoulder, his gaze quickly taking her in from head to toe and momentarily making Rey feel self-conscious. Ben was wearing his regular attire but with an undershirt that had a distinctly high collar. That, combined with the way the threads of sunlight were playing in his curls and the gleam of his warm brown eyes, made for a rather princely look.

Rey reminded herself that he was, after all, the son of a princess and the grandson of a queen. The blood of royalty.

  
"Four days in a row, now," he said quietly. "And all in the same place, too."

  
"I told you this would keep happening," Rey replied, craning her neck to see what he was doing but his broad shoulders blocked the view. "What have you got there?"

Ben paused for a second, then leaned a bit to his left. There was nothing in front of him, the desk as empty as Rey had left it.

She shook her head. "I don’t see anything."

He looked back at the table and took something, holding it up for her examination. It was a datapad, too far away to discern what was on the screen.

"There’s a whole stack of them here, but I think we can’t see each other’s possessions until we're touching them," Ben surmised. "Interesting, how this works."

Rey hummed in faint agreement, not finding it particularly interesting herself.

"In our second connection," he said, "when you called me a murderous snake and a monster—"

"The latter one — you called _yourself_ that."

Ben’s mouth twitched with discontent. "Because _I_ was repeating the name _you_ called me on Starkiller Base, and _you_ agreed—"

"A name that _you_ very much deserved at the moment—"

"_Anyway_," he interjected, slightly raising his voice, "when it ended, I had drops of water on my gloves."

Rey was lost. "It was pouring rain that day. What’s your point?"

Ben shrugged. "My point is that it’s interesting. There clearly are some rules to this thing. Maybe we can conduct some experiments."

_Conduct some experiments?_ To Rey, the inner workings of their connection was simply the Force, it just _was_ — mysterious and with a mind of its own, something not worth racking your brain over. Ben, however, seemed to view it with some kind of an academic curiosity, as something that could be taken apart and figured out. Almost like—

  
"I didn’t mean _right now_." Ben had taken her brief silence as reluctance. "Some other day, perhaps, if the bond ever opens up earlier."

  
Rey nodded. Maybe the prospect of them planning out activities for their future connections should be more terrifying, but, frankly, she was too tired to care.

  
"So — what were you reading?" Rey asked, trying to delay the awkward , inevitable conversation they would be forced to have shortly.

  
Ben glanced at the datapad still in his gloved hand, a flicker of doubt rippling across his face, so open and overly-expressive when he wasn’t actively concentrating on reining in his emotions.

  
"You don’t have to tell me," Rey said, sensing the cause for his hesitation. "If it’s connected to the First Order, I probably don’t want to know anyway."

  
"This one’s the financial report for the past solar cycle. I was checking it to see whether we’re overspending on R&D — with the war being over, we might have to start diverting our resources elsewhere, into other areas that may need it more."

  
"So you’re also a fan of some light reading before bedtime," Rey quipped, not knowing how else to respond and earning herself a sigh from Ben.

  
"It’s a part of my duty," his voice was flat, but not malicious. Rey made a sound of acknowledgment at the back of her throat.

  
If their sleep schedules were still in sync, it meant that it was around the middle of night for Ben as well, and yet here he was, alone in his room and poring over the exact thing that Dameron had been so convinced Ben would despise. That made Rey wonder — did he ever do anything fun in his spare time? She couldn’t exactly imagine him spending his evenings lounging on a couch and watching holovids. No, his favorite recreational activity was probably staring out the viewport and _brooding_.

  
To her dismay, Rey realized she shouldn’t be the one to throw stones. Hadn’t she also picked up the habit of overworking herself as a coping mechanism?

  
At least the atmosphere between them was much better today. It still wasn’t warm, far from it, but it was pleasant not to tussle for a change. Rey knew that the heaviness of yesterday’s talk still loomed over both of them like a thunderous cloud, but it was of a storm already passed.

  
She bit her lip, hesitating. "Can I ask you something?"

  
Ben searched her eyes for something, then nodded, shifting in his chair to face her more directly.

"How are you?" Rey asked with as much sincerity as she could muster.

  
Ben blinked, looking slightly taken aback. He stalled by slowly placing the datapad on the table and arranging the rest of them in a neat stack, one that vanished the moment he let it go.

  
Rey couldn’t forget that she was converging with the Resistance’s biggest nemesis, and had to be very careful about not revealing too much. "It’s just that there have been some rumors that have, let’s say, reached my corner of the galaxy."

  
He frowned. "And what sort of rumors would those be?"

  
A sigh escaped Rey’s lips at the first sign of that quicksilver temper of his shifting for the worst.

"Just something about infighting amongst the First Order higher-ups, you and Hux in particular. Nothing too specific, if that’s what you’re worried about."

  
"You’re right, I _don’t_ want to talk about it," he replied with a tone icy enough to freeze over Mustafar. Just like that, he was back to being his regular, standoffish self, and the stormy cloud over their heads boomed with distant thunder once again.

  
"If you are trying to gather intel from me for those _scum_—"

  
"I’m _not._" Rey took a deep breath, steadying herself. "When I was on Ahch-To, and Luke was trying his hardest at making me feel like shit, I had _no one_ to vent to. No one except for you, and you — you _listened_ to me, even when we were still—"

  
She kept stumbling over her words, so very frustrated at herself for her lack of articulation because somewhere out there had to be the right sequence of words to make him _understand_. "I went to the island to find some sort of guidance. Help. The scraps of it Luke was willing to offer came with a lot of bitterness and reluctance. I ended up drawing a lightsaber on him just to get the truth about what happened between the two of you, did you know that? _Me_. You had helped me, and he was being a complete— anyway, I figured— I don’t know— I could do the same for you in return. Listen to you, I mean. If you wanted to, that is, but clearly not. Forget I asked."

  
Ben had crossed his arms like a petulant child, but she could see it in his face that the fight had gone out of him, the ice in his warm brown eyes having somewhat melted. He slightly shook his head as if trying to make sense of something.

  
"You fought Luke on Ahch-To?" he asked slowly. "For me?"

  
"Well— more like _because_ of you, not _for_ you—" She wanted to elaborate, explain that it had more to do with Luke’s animosity than Ben’s honor, but something in the way he was looking at her made Rey simply nod instead. "But yes, I suppose I did."

  
For a while neither of them spoke, and perhaps that was for the best. Rey had hoped that the connection would take pity on them and conclude for the day, but their conversation was now decidedly over and the link was still as strong as ever. It had never held on for this long, not even close. Which meant—

  
_Kriff_.

"What time is it for you — wherever you are?" Rey asked.

  
Ben glanced over his shoulder at an invisible chrono. "Midnight. What about you?"

  
"One in the morning."

  
Perhaps it was an errant thought that had made its way through the bond, like a butterfly flying into an open window by accident, or maybe it was simply her heavy lids, but Rey saw the exact moment the realization hit him, a gust of bashful apprehensiveness dawning on his face.

  
"You want to go to sleep," he said.

  
"Yes," she replied, swallowing.

  
Ben got up from his chair.

  
"Do you want me to go?" he asked, rubbing his forearm awkwardly. "I can wait someplace else until the link closes."

  
Rey blinked. Somehow, she hadn’t even considered the possibility of him acting maturely.

  
_ Yes, you need to leave._

  
Rey thought about how ridiculous this whole thing was. How, maybe, Ben had been right after all, and the Force simply got a kick out of torturing them.

  
_ Just go, why did you even ask?_

  
Ben shifted from one foot to the other, waiting.

  
_ The last time we were in this position, I quite literally ran away._

  
"Rey?" Weary, brown eyes were boring into hers. "I’m going to leave, okay?"

  
_Yes._

  
"No."

  
It was as if the air itself froze, and the Force around them hummed with stinging, anxious energy. She heard herself say the words as if from far, far away. "It’s fine. You can stay."

  
Ben now looked even more distraught than before, as if, he, too, hadn’t considered the possibility of them actually having to share a bed.

  
The two of them.

  
Sharing a bed.

  
_What have you done, Rey?_

* * *

  
Ben frowned. "You’re acting really suspicious tonight. How do I know you’re not planning on smothering me in my sleep?"

  
Rey bowed her head in a mock contrition.

  
"My humblest apologies for agreeing to the offer you yourself made two days ago, Your Supreme Leadership. Also," she added, a faint smile beginning to play on her lips before Rey got a chance to hold it back, "don’t give me ideas."

  
For a split second, a shadow of something that looked like satisfaction washed through his features, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

  
"If we’re planning on doing this and living to tell the tale, I feel like some ground rules are in order," Rey said.

  
Ben nodded. "I agree. The first one being — don’t ever call me _Your Supreme Leadership_ again."

  
Rey stifled a laugh.

  
"Fair enough. The second one — you don’t pester me about joining your cause, and I’ll do the same. From now on, _this_," she gestured wildly to her surroundings, "is neutral territory. No poaching allowed. Got it?"

  
Ben had pressed his lips into too tight a line, but there was no mistaking the sizzles of amusement coming from his side of the bond. "Got it."

  
"And thirdly – we cover up for bed. So go find some sleeping pants or something. And an additional pillow because that one’s very soft, and it’s _mine_."

* * *

  
This was a horrible idea. An easy contender for a top spot among her worst. Rey noted that a big chunk of the list would probably be taken up by different events involving Ben, and they had only known each other for less than a _fortnight_, for kriff's sake.

  
The air was leaden with tension, and even the Force seemed to be buzzing with it, which— wasn't helping her relax. They were as far away to the opposite sides as the mattress would allow, but it wasn’t nearly far enough; Ben’s body was practically radiating warmth like a human heating plate — Rey could feel it even through the many folds of fabric between them. It brought back memories of trying to fall asleep in the relentless desert heat. Highly distracting though it may be, she had to admit it wasn't _entirely_ unpleasant. 

  
Rey felt like she should say something, _anything_ to break the miserable silence as they were both staring up at the ceiling — too petrified to move lest they accidentally touched, too petrified to even close their eyes — but what could they possibly discuss while they were both in their sleeping clothes _under the same sheets_?

  
So she blurted out the first thing that came into her mind.

  
"Do you know where I could find a really old thermal infuser chip?"

  
"I— _what_?"

  
"It’s for the Falcon," she explained. "The main power converter’s busted. Well, it’s not completely busted, you could still fly it at a pinch, but it’s not diverting enough power for the hyper accelerator which makes for some, uh, rather unsafe travels."

  
"Why don’t you just buy a new one?"

  
"Ah, yes, I’ll just pop in at the nearby market and get one, how did I not think of _that_."

  
"Don’t you have a market, wherever you are?" he asked, suddenly sounding too curious and making her mind flash with warning lights. Sensing that he’s dangerously close to probing out some real information, Rey went on the defensive. 

  
"I don’t need to _buy_ one when I can _scavenge_ it for free, you spoiled aristocrat," she rebuked. "The problem is — I have to find a compatible model, which means rifling through some _old_ tech."

  
"I have a better idea," Ben said, slightly propping himself up on his elbows.

  
He leaned in conspiratorially.

  
"How about—" he lowered his voice, and Rey inadvertently mirrored him, inching ever so slightly towards him. "How about you use telekinesis and chuck the Falcon off a cliff, instead? That would solve all your problems, it seems."

  
Rey rolled her eyes harder than she possibly ever had before in her life and spun on her side with her back to him.

  
"I’ll keep that particular trick in mind for the next time I see you in person," she grumbled.

  
A long silence followed. Then—

  
"Good night, Rey."

  
"Good night."

  
She fell asleep quickly after that.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a brief note before we proceed - the following chapter contains depictions of excessive alcohol consumption so if that it something that makes you uncomfortable, you might consider skipping this one!
> 
> Stay safe and drink responsibly, kids! <3

The next morning Rey woke up alone and—

  
It was easier not to think about it. So she didn’t.

* * *

  
  
"Okay, okay, okay, all I’m _saying_ is that abandoning the planet the way they did is crazy. They could have — and should have — fought back, or at least tried to. If everything ended up being destroyed anyway, why couldn’t they have taken out some First Order garbage with them? I don’t get it. Millions of credits were invested in this place, countless man hours, and for what? For them to just run away? Lunacy, I tell you, kriffing _lunacy_," Poe asserted, eyes bright and cheeks growing brighter still with each passing minute.

  
Rey took another swig from the bottle, briefly closing her eyes and submerging into the sensation of languid warmth seeping through her chest. The lavender-colored liquid tasted like bacta, but over the course of the evening she had either grown accustomed to the intense, overpowering flavor or the alcohol itself was finally starting to have an effect. Rey now found herself being able to drink it straight without as much as wincing. Which— was probably a sign that she should stop.

  
But it was still early. And she had company.

  
She passed the bottle over to Finn who was sitting against the opposite wall of the tiny, dimly lit tech room.

  
"What is that stuff, anyway?" Rose’s voice was slightly muffled, her head was halfway buried inside the opened climate controls panel.

  
"Sunfruit liquor," replied Finn, turning it over in his hands and reading the label. "This is the _fancy_ stuff, usually served in weddings. I remember having to fetch crates of it when lieutenant Mitaka got married. There was some blabbering about how the newly weds are only allowed to drink from the oldest bottle — the belief is that the marriage would last for as many years as the liquor has been aged."

  
"Did it work out for them?" Rey inquired, feeling the warmth starting to reach her face.

  
Finn shrugged. "I don’t know, but last I heard he was reporting to Kylo Ren so he probably won’t live long enough to find out."

  
Poe, who was on the ground right next to Rey, snorted.

  
The evening had started off innocently enough. Rey had spent the day combing through the nearby grounds of the distribution facility and looking at every abandoned piece of tech she could find — mostly harvesters, machine-lifters and robo-delivery trucks — in hopes to find the one that could have a thermal infuser chip outdated enough to be compatible with the Falcon.

  
Much to Rey's dismay, out of all the Outer Rim planets, the Resistance just had to have landed on the one that had been wealthy enough to upgrade their machinery. Fingers stinging from metal cuts and morale stinging from failure, Rey had decided to cast aside her reclusive tendencies — at least for the evening — and seek help.

  
That was how she found Finn and Rose — holed up in the dusty tech room, the former on the floor and the latter elbows deep amidst a glowing mass of circuitry, adjusting some valves inside the panel. Rose could offer no guidance about where to locate the chip, though she commended Rey for trying and promised to keep an eye out.

  
Finn had proceeded to tell them both about the discovery he’d made under his bed earlier that morning, and a plan was hatched.

  
The three of them had spent about an hour taking turns with the bottle and chatting while Rose carried on with her work, until Poe had checked in on her progress and— stayed.

  
"You’ve been at it for so long — how’s it going?" Finn addressed Rose who was busy punching in some commands into the dashboard.

  
"I’m actually—" she reached to her far left, turning a valve until a faint hissing somewhere behind the panel could be heard, "almost through!"

  
She turned around, wiping her forehead with the back of her arm, leaving behind a streak of grime on her beaming face. "Now we just have to wait about an hour for the temperature to reset, I’ll restart the systems, and we’ll be done! Now— _where did the bottle go_?"

* * *

  
  
"Poe— buddy—" Finn inhaled, trying to narrow in his gaze on Poe but ending up looking confused instead. "I have to ask you something while we still have you—"

  
Poe nodded enthusiastically, dark, messy curls flying into all directions. "Of course! We’re bonded for life, man, you can ask me anything. _Always_."

  
Rey exchanged a look with Rose who rolled her eyes and gave a small, playful shake of her head. Rey giggled into the neck of the bottle.

  
"How—" Finn frowned and started over. "Is what you said yesterday about allies in— kriffing Naboo or whatever— true?"

  
Poe blinked, taken aback. "Of course it is! Why— why would we lie about that?"

  
"I don’t know, man, it just all seems so—" Finn rubbed the back of his neck, wincing. "So far-fetched. Naive, almost? What if it’s all a First Order set-up, and they're just trying to lure us out?"

  
"They’re not lying, of that I’m a hundred percent sure. We won’t be alone," Poe lifted his chin, looking every bit like the poster boy for the Resistance that he was. "There is a problem, though."

  
"Uh-oh." Now it was Rose’s turn to frown. "A problem?"

  
"Yeah—" Poe sighed. "We were promised some funds, right? But just today we found out that The First Order has a firmer control over the HoloNet than we thought — even here, at the literal backwoods of the kriffing _galaxy_, which includes every single transaction, obviously. Basically — we can't get a transfer for a large sum like that without raising a lot of suspicion."

  
"Shit," said Finn placidly.

  
"Shit, indeed," Poe nodded. "Which is why we’re bringing in a slicer from Coruscant in a couple of days."

  
Finn and Rose exchanged knowing looks.

  
"I know, I know." Poe raised his hands apologetically. "But this one’s trustworthy, we go back years. I haven’t actually met this person myself, but without them we wouldn’t have a large chunk of our intel, and, _boy_, do they have a way with words—"

  
His eyes glazed over for a spell.

  
"Poe — while you’re still drunk and talkative — any juicy intel you’re willing to spill?" Rose asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

  
At that, Rey, who had zoned out for a good couple of minutes and retreated into a very personal headspace filled with screeching lightsabers and doleful eyes, perked up. Poe let out a long exhale, ruffling a hand through his hair.

"Not really, " he said. "Except this one thing that Organa and I can’t make heads or tails of."

  
Rey couldn’t tell whether it was her own blood suddenly pounding in her ears with preposterous insistence or perhaps the Force signaling imminent danger. Either way, the only thing she could do was lift the bottle to her lips.

  
"Remember I mentioned the Snoke thing? How nobody knew what happened to him?"

  
Finn and Rose nodded in unison.

  
"It’s—" He shook his head. "It’s the weirdest thing, I swear. We are now pretty sure that he’s dead, but it’s the latest rumors about how he died that’s the bizarre part."

  
Rey took a swig large enough to make her eyes tear up.

  
"Even the highest-ranked members don’t exactly know what happened. One day Kylo Ren just took over Snoke’s duties, no official statement, no nothing, and that was that."

  
"You think Kylo Ren usurped him?" Finn asked. "I wouldn’t put it past him, the guy is a kriffing snake."

  
Poe wobbled his head and half-shrugged. "Maybe."

  
"What— you don’t think that’s true?" Finn frowned.

  
"I don’t know _what_ to think if I’m being honest, because what I heard is just— straight up kriffing _bizarre_."

  
Rey felt her fingers clutch around the neck of the bottle, and had to put conscious effort into prying them looser.

  
"Allegedly— " Poe leaned in, lowering his voice. "There was a third party involved. Ren pinned it all — the death of Snoke and his eight Praetorian guards, himself being knocked out— on this unknown individual. Nobody believes him, obviously — why would this supposedly-so-hostile third party leave _him _alive? They think he brought someone aboard _the Supremacy_ to help him take over."

  
"Do we know who this third party is?" Rose asked.

  
"That’s the thing," Poe waved his arms exasperatedly. "They’re saying it was some Resistance defector."

  
"_A Resistance defector?_" Rose burst into laughter. "What a load of bantha fodder. I know we had problems with morale, but that is just ridiculous. Ren probably did it alone and made something up to cover his ass."

  
"This sounds just like the First Order," Finn scoffed. "Using the Resistance as the scapegoat for all their internal problems. Besides, who would Ren even know from the Resistance? That makes absolutely no kriffing sense."

  
"I know, and I completely agree with you," said Poe. "It’s just that—"

  
He paused, chewing on the inside of his lip. "You know what? Never mind."

  
Rey pushed the bottle into Poe's hands with so much force she ended up nearly smacking him in the stomach. "Snoke is dead, isn’t that all that matters? One less tyrant for us to kill, and all that. Now can we please talk about _anything other than the war_?"

* * *

  
"I want to see Takodana again," Rey answered, stretching out the vowels to keep herself from slurring. "It was like a dream. I didn’t even know green had a _smell_."

  
"_Y e s!_" Poe enthused a tad too loudly. "If there’s one thing I miss about Yavin 4, it’s that one — everything was so— so _alive_ you could feel it in the air."

  
"Was it also green?" Rey smiled, imagining how perfect it would be to have an entire world full of nothing but trees.

  
"The greenest," Poe laughed, eyes glimmering with fond memories of his formative years. "What about you, guys? Which planet would you most like to visit?"

  
"At this point, I’ll take anything that’s not kriffing _yellow._" Finn had considerably more trouble with his articulation, but he bravely soldiered on. "I think I’m developing some sort of eye condition, where — even when we get off this miserable planet, my eyes will be so used to yellow, that— that—"

  
Rose patted his shoulder for the effort and chuckled. "We got it. Personally — anything with a real night would be perfect for me. I can’t sleep if it’s light out, it feels— _wrong_."

  
Rey, the self-proclaimed expert in various sleep difficulties, nodded compassionately.

Speaking of—

  
"What time is it?" She looked around, trying to spot a chrono on the dashboard, but all the lights had bled into one big glow. Rey tried squinting at the direction where it was supposed to be but to no avail.

  
"Uhhh—" Rose got up, holding a hand on the wall for balance. Slowly, she approached the dashboard and glanced at the readout. "Late. Why?"

  
"Nothing, I just— have a thing," Rey mumbled, wondering whether she’ll even be able to locate her room. She couldn’t see anything clearly anymore — since when was the world so _blurry_?

  
"At the middle of the night?"

  
"Rose—"

  
"Wait, are you _meeting_ someone? Finn and I were talking just the other day about how much you need a—"

  
"_Rose_!"

  
"What?"

  
Rey got up, immediately realizing what a massive mistake that had been.

  
Her condition was worse than she’d thought. Rey had been sitting for what was probably hours, not really moving from her place and, _stars_, was it bad. The second she rose, it felt a bit like she was trying to fly the Falcon for the first time, back when she didn't have a grasp of the controls, and the freighter had kept spinning—

  
and spinning—

  
and spinning—

  
_Kriff_.

  
She reached blindly for support but even the wall seemed to be in cahoots with the floor, refusing to stand still.

  
"Are you okay?" somebody asked, but the voice seemed muffled by the jangling buzz of blood in her ears, now so loud it was almost deafening. 

  
"Yep!" she lied, closing her eyes and focusing on her breathing, "Just, uhh, adjusting — to standing— give me a second, I’m fine—"

  
"Come on, you’ve had enough, let’s get you to your room."

Someone wrapped their arms around her shoulders, and Rey let herself be half-lead, half-dragged out of the room and into the corridor, the brown-yellow hues of the evening light filtering in through the windows merging into one smudged mess. It almost felt like flying; there was a weightlessness to her upper body that was at odds with the way gravity seemed to be pulling at her feet.

  
She became aware of the strong arms around her, and with the corner of her eye caught a glimpse of dark, messy hair that made her sigh in relief.

  
"Thank you," she mumbled with a lazy smile. "See? I knew you’re not _all_ bad."

  
"Uhh, thanks," the distant voice replied, still muffled by the overpowering pounding in her ears. "Not sure why you’d think I ever was, but I appreciate it."

  
She laughed and wistfully leaned into the touch, shutting her eyes and letting herself be guided for what seemed like a soft eternity, crossing corridors upon corridors until finally they came to a halt. When Rey opened them again, there was a familiar redwood door in front of her. And the person who had been guiding her—

  
wasn’t the one her disastrous, disoriented mind had imagined it to be.

  
"So, uhh— will you be okay to get to bed by yourself, or—" Poe asked awkwardly, decidedly avoiding eye contact and holding open the door.

  
Rey could only blink at him in horror as her brain caught up with the grave error it had made.

  
"I’ll be fine, thanks," she gabbled, slamming the door shut behind her as quickly as her sluggish reflexes would allow. Considering the catastrophe that had just occurred, it wasn’t nearly fast enough.

* * *

  
  
As Rey slid down door towards the oh-so-inviting floor, she suppressed the urge to scream. Instead, she hid her brick red face in her hands. The only upside was that the gut punch of a realization had broken her out of the groggy, half-formed reverie and somewhat sobered her up. Enough, at least, to be more aware of her senses.

  
She heard some shuffling, followed by approaching movement from the side of the room with the bed. It stopped right in front of her.

  
"What’s going on?" A cautious, sleep-crusted baritone asked. "What are you doing on the floor?"

  
"I’m listening to the sound of my life falling apart around me," she mumbled into her hands.

  
"That sound is probably alcohol-induced tinnitus, but your answer might be correct, too," drawled Ben from somewhere close nearby. "Tell me — is the morale in the Resistance that low?"

  
That was when she finally opened her eyes. It took a few seconds for her gaze to focus in, and she realized he was right in front of her, crouching on the floor — bare-chested, eyes half-lidded, hair in complete disarray and stifling a yawn with the back of his hand.

  
"I woke you up," was all she could say.

  
"It’s fine," Ben answered with an uncharacteristic air of calmness. "Lie down on the bed, I can fix you up."

  
"You can Force heal?" Rey asked, stalling as she forced her body to upwards whilst keeping a hand on the door for balance. Ben got up much quicker and hovered over her, following her pain-staking efforts attentively. He was ready to catch her, she realized, and made a note to herself not to let that happen. Rey had humiliated herself enough for the day. A lifetime, even.

  
"I was never great at it, but it should be enough to at least take the edge off," Ben said, keeping his gaze trained on her uncooperative body as she waded towards the bed. His staring was _not_ helping, nor was the fact that he kept tailing just a step behind her, so close she could feel the ever distracting warmth of his body. _Not_ helping.

  
"I’m fine," she grumbled, collapsing on the bed in what was probably the poise of an caliphant. Ben, thankfully, didn’t comment. She felt the mattress sink, and opened her eyes to watch him climb over her, settling in on his knees to her left.

"Close your eyes." His voice was barely a whisper.

  
Rey complied. Trying to keep track of a wickedly pirouetting world was exhausting work, anyway.

  
That was when she felt it, a light tingling sensation gently making its way through her skull — a cool, airy sort of a caress that reached in and, inch by inch, cleared up the fog that had weighed it down. It felt like— starlight.

  
Pure starlight.

  
"So— what happened?" The process had been so soothing Rey had almost forgotten she was wasn’t asleep— and that there was still someone with her. 

  
She groaned.

  
"That bad?"

  
"Worse. I mistook—" She let out a deep sigh. "I mistook someone else for you."

  
The starlight flickered out for a spell, and Ben cleared his throat. Then it started back up again as if nothing had happened.

  
"What did you do?" Ben asked, clearly trying not to sound curious.

  
"I don’t want to talk about it," she grumbled. Then, a rousing suspicion dawned on her. "And if you try and use this opportunity to snoop around my mind, _I swear to the stars, Ben_—"

  
"I wasn’t," he answered, puffing up.

  
That incident was something that Rey already knew would keep her up at nights. The wound was much too fresh to poke at, especially by the very object of her mix up.

  
Ben shivered. Rey didn’t see it, but she could felt it — the disgust — resonate across his Force signature. He made a short, displeased huffing sound.

  
"What did you _drink_? It’s filtering through me, you know."

  
"Uhh—" Rey tried to concentrate on the earlier events of the evening, ignoring the flashbacks of her lowest moments that kept popping up instead. "It was sunfruit liquor, I think."

  
"Was someone getting—"

  
"No," she grunted. "Finn just found a bottle."

  
Upon hearing the ex-stormtrooper’s name, Rey felt a distinctive, concentrated bolt of contempt coming from his side of the bond like a lightning strike.

  
"He’s a wonderful person, Ben," Rey tried to argue.

  
"Good for him," was all he had to say on the matter.

  
Then the starlight ended, and Rey opened her eyes, her head feeling strangely cold like she had just submerged it in water.

  
"Better?"

  
Rey blinked a couple of times. The dizziness seemed to be gone, at least. She propped herself up on her elbows next. Her movements were still slightly sluggish, lids heavy, but overall—

  
"Much better," she admitted. "Thank you."

  
Ben nodded. "Don’t fall asleep on me yet. I want to try something."

  
Quick as a flash, he went over her, disappearing behind the corner of the bed. Rey’s head was too heavy to keep him in sight, but she heard some thudding— pouring?— followed by the hissing of mechanical doors that were definitely _not_ a part of her own room.

  
Everything was quiet for a while, and Rey kept fighting her heavy lids that insisted on falling shut. Just when she was beginning to wonder whether the connection had abruptly cut off, the silence was broken by hissing, followed by the soft sound of bare footsteps approaching.

  
Ben had come back, holding an obsidian-tinted cup in one hand as well as something tiny and seemingly made out of paper in the other. He handed her the glass, eyes trained on the item, watching with overt fascination as she—

  
Took it from him. And kept it, even as he let go. As if it had always belonged to her plane of existence.

  
"Huh," he remarked. "Interesting."

  
Rey sniffed at the contents of the glass.

  
"It’s just water. Better drink it now," he said and extended his right hand towards her. "_This_ is for tomorrow."

  
The paper item was much smaller — as Rey took it from him, she noticed how careful Ben was to avoid skin-to-skin contact — extending it out to her between two long fingers. She followed suit, despite not being sure what he was so scared of. It wasn't like they hadn’t done it before.

  
"That's a hangover packet — got it from a med droid. Mix it in with water in the morning."

  
Rey eyed it as she gulped on the water — there was no label, no writing on it. Anything could be inside. Poison, even — the First Order probably kept a hefty supply of it somewhere.

  
"Really?" Ben had noticed her suspicion. "I’m not saying that I’d ever try to kill you, but if I were, do you really think _poison_ would be my weapon of choice?" he deadpanned. "It’s like you don’t know me at all, Rey."

  
She snorted weakly.

  
"Sorry," she apologized and— found that she truly meant it. "That was thoughtful of you, what you did tonight."

  
Rey met his gaze and thought about how that very evening, the version of her that was intoxicated with all her defenses down — but one that was still decidedly _her_ — had allowed herself, even if it was for a couple of minutes, to _imagine_.

  
"Can we go to sleep now? Please?" Rey yawned, burrowing under the blanket, too tired to remove her clothes.

  
He nodded, climbing over her for what felt like the hundredth time today and settling in next to Rey in his side of the bed.

  
_His side_, she thought, not feeling nearly as much panic at the concept as she should.

  
If he ever said anything else that night, she didn’t hear it, for just a few seconds later Rey had fallen fast asleep — it was the best sleep she’d had in what felt like an eternity.

  
In it, for the first time, she allowed her neglected imagination to run wild.


	6. Chapter 6

  
Rey woke up slowly, clinging to the elusive aftermaths of the pleasant dream she’d had. Drifting in and out of sleep, she saw only hazy flashes that kept evaporating into oblivion as soon as she took hold of them — the smell of grass, fresh and serene, a breeze gently kissing her shoulder, and—

  
Rey opened her eyes, feeling a blush spread to her cheeks.

  
_That’s it,_ she thought, sitting up with a jolt. _I have to meditate._

  
She flew out of bed, shivering at the cool air against her bare upper arms and calves that left goosebumps in its wake. Rey had expected a vicious hangover that would rear its ugly head as soon as she got up but was surprised to find that, apart from some dryness in her mouth, her present condition was almost entirely okay. Rey made a mental note to thank Ben again when she'd see him this evening — he’d saved her from a lot of headache. Literally.

  
As she was changing into some fresh clothes, Rey remembered the items he’d given her right before they went to sleep. Sure enough, the cup and the packet were still on her nightstand, the black glass sticking out against the soft, antiquated decor like a sore thumb and practically daring someone to guess how it got there.

  
As Rey filled it up with water, she decided there was no point in trying to keep it hidden. Nobody would believe the truth anyway.

* * *

  
After spending an hour scouring the nearby grounds to find the perfect, secluded spot for meditation, Rey had settled at the top of a tiny hill overlooking a vast expanse of desolate, grey earth. The forlorn view made her slightly uncomfortable but so was facing the bleak facility.

  
This particular hill was one among many, marking a natural boundary between the territory of the massive distribution facility and the beginnings of flat farmland. Unlike the others, however, this one was bright red.

  
It had roused Rey’s curiosity when she’d first spotted it from afar, after wandering aimlessly in search of something, a place — though she knew next to nothing about these sorts of matters, _Jedi_ matters — _worthy_ enough of meditation, perhaps. At first, as she was approaching the hill, she’d taken the redness for a tarp of some sort. Then, as she got closer and noticed a lack of the distinctive, synthetic shine that a tarp would have, an irrational fear whispered to her that it was blood, somehow. But when she reached the actual hill, Rey discovered that it was neither. The redness turned out to a myriad of tiny, red flowers that indeed looked like countless droplets of blood between the grey stems of grass. It was the first seemingly healthy vegetation she'd seen on this planet since they’d arrived. 

  
Curious.

  
Rey closed her eyes, sat down in a lotus position and began.

  
She listened to her own breathing, felt the shifts of the Force moving around her like lazy waves in an infinite ocean, heard the gentle swaying of the flowers on the hill whispering to her in a forgotten language, shivered from the cold that was seeping in from the facility with all of its abandoned, hollow machinery, struggled for air as she was greeted with nothing but death and _nothing_ in front of her, nothing but barren, dead fields and scorched earth, and loss, and the cold, it was so _cold_—

  
_You went straight to the dark_, Luke’s reprimand rang in her ears from what seemed both like a lifetime ago and yesterday. 

  
Rey opened her eyes, panting harshly. A layer of cold sweat clung to her body despite the suns beaming down with the same, impervious persistence as usual.

  
It took a couple minutes of gathering her will to try again. It was like submerging yourself into a deep pool of freezing water, but this time, she knew what to expect. This time, she was ready.

  
This planet wasn't balanced, that was the problem. There was hardly any life on it, nothing to even out the desolation that clung to it like a disease. Rey breathed it all in, trembling at the overwhelming sense of loneliness that it brought. 

  
And then she felt it. Somewhere — at the other side of the galaxy, perhaps — a tiny flicker of warmth against an infinite, freezing void, responding to her call in kind, so impossibly far away it was almost nonexistent, and _yet_—

  
It was enough, this light, to keep the cold at bay. And now that she'd located it, Rey knew she’d never have trouble finding it again. After that— meditation came easy.

  
Rey didn’t know how long she’d spent at it — could be an hour, could be six — when a voice roused her from the depths of a now comfortable void.

  
"I see you’ve found my spot."

  
She turned around hastily, finding a smiling Leia Organa behind her. 

  
"General Organa," Rey breathed, scrambling to her feet. "I didn’t hear you coming."

  
The older woman lifted up a palm, her eyes glinting.

  
"It’s Leia, how many times must we go over this?" She looked around the desolate landscape, then at the ground beneath her feet, littered with specks of flowers. "I come here to calm down when Poe gets on my nerves. These are called purpureas, did you know that?"

  
Rey shook her head. She didn’t have a lot of experience with flowers. In Jakku she’d collected some — nightbloomers, spinebarrels, amongst others — but they were dark, dour looking things, not much to look at.

  
"They were considered weeds back in Alderaan — these resilient little things spread like wildfire if left unattended as long as they have some dirt to grow in and a bit of precipitation at least once a year. We used to call them the flowers of decay — entire planets have been overtaken by a sea these red scoundrels. It's a mark of desolation that can be seen from space."

  
Rey looked around, imagining the grey of the fields gradually being overtaken by color again. It was comforting, in a way, to imagine that balance can restore itself even in such an unusual form as this one.

  
"It will be quite a sight one day, I’m sure," Leia smiled. "But hopefully we won’t be on this tumbleweed of a planet long enough to see it."

  
Rey peered at her, Leia's weary gaze so much like her son’s.

  
"I’ve been meaning to talk to you," Leia said.

  
Rey looked out into the distance again. She had a feeling this conversation was coming ever since they locked eyes during the briefing. 

  
"You know I’m not particularly adept at all of this Force business — that was always my brother’s thing. But it doesn’t mean that I can’t feel it. And you—" She bore into her eyes with the same, undiluted intensity that Rey had been the target of countless times before. "I sense a familiar presence about you. As if my son is as frequent of a guest in your thoughts as he is in mine."

  
Rey said nothing. This was the moment — she knew. The moment to come clean and tell Leia _everything_ that had been weighing on her soul ever since she’d left for Ahch-To. But Rey couldn’t— she opened her mouth to speak but found that there were no words to spare. They were all stuck in her throat. How could Rey explain it, when she had no idea of what _it_ was herself? Putting it into words would make it real, make it change the way the Resistance — her friends — treated her. Rey wasn’t sure she was ready to face that particular truth, not yet.

  
And so she said nothing.

  
"Tell me," Leia hesitated, a tone of apprehension seeping into her voice, "did he hurt you? Is that why you can’t shake him?"

  
Rey’s head snapped towards the General.

"No!" she said, perhaps a bit too frantically, disturbed by the very concept of Leia considering _that_ to be the cause of Rey’s torment this past week. "I mean— he did try and extract my memories — rather unsuccessfully, if I may add — and we fought once, but he wasn’t trying to kill me—" She sighed, crossing her arms. "It’s complicated."

  
Leia made a sound of acknowledgment, but her eyes were unconvinced, still searching with too much deliberation.

  
"Did you two ever talk?" she asked.

  
Rey feigned innocence as much as she could. "A little bit."

  
"And— what was he like?" Leia asked, her voice smaller somehow. Sadder.

  
A pang of pity resonated through Rey's heart. Leia hadn’t talked to her own son in years — she didn’t even want to know for how many, exactly.

  
"Arrogant," Rey reminisced, remembering her first time seeing the dark prince with the soft voice and the cruel thoughts. "Then scared. Frustrated. And then— scared again."

  
Leia nodded. "Ben’s been like that since he was born. He’s always felt everything too — _acutely_, for all the good it ever did to him."

  
Rey saw it — a glimpse of unfamiliar memories as clear as day — of a gangly, teenage Ben coming home with his hair mussed, a bruised lip and a narrow, bloody scrape on his forehead, eyes wet and screaming for murder as he— collapsed into Leia’s arms.

  
"It was only the extremes of emotions with him," she added, unaware of an intruder having accidentally tapped into her past shimmering through the Force in a thick fog. "We thought this— passion that he seemed to be so full of was a sign of his grandfather’s imprint. It scared me — the volatile temper, all that wild power. At the time, it seemed to make so much _sense_ to send him to Luke. I could feel a disaster approaching and had to act. What I didn't realize was that doing so would turn out to be the very catalyst for it."

  
Rey chewed on her lower lip, fighting the resentment rising in her throat like bile.

  
She knew what it felt like all too well — being abandoned by your parents without a proper reason or explanation. Feeling lonely. It wasn’t a fate that she’d wish upon her worst enemy.

  
"You need to tell the truth," Rey said without even bothering to inject any warmth into her voice. "To Poe, at the very least. He needs to know, going forward."

Leia was supposed to be the one with all the answers, but, like her brother, she turned out to be just a human being after all.

  
"I know," the older woman finally answered, letting out a deep sigh and looking more like her years than ever before. "I’ve put this off for long enough already. I’ll tell him tonight."

  
Rey nodded. "Good."

* * *

  
  
Two things awaited Rey as she returned to her room that evening.

  
The first one was Ben, stretched diagonally across the bed on his back like an overgrown Loth-cat with a massive, yellowed tome in his hands. He wasn’t wearing his regular tunic, instead having opted for a black undershirt and the loose, cotton pants he used for sleeping — Rey supposed that was his version of domestic attire.

  
The second thing was a blast of ice-cold air that hit her with the severity of a slap in the face the moment she stepped across the threshold.

  
The drop in temperature had been so sudden, so severe that Rey froze in the door frame, instinctively wrapping her arms around herself. 

  
"What the kriff is going on?" Rey hissed, marching across the room to peer behind the curtains, expecting to find, perhaps, a broken pane or two. But everything seemed to be in order. She looked around and saw nothing that would explain why her room was suddenly hell-bent on mimicking Hoth. Aggravated, Rey turned on her heel to look at Ben who'd been peering at her over the head of the book. He quirked an eyebrow.

  
"What?" he asked.

  
"Did you do something?" Rey narrowed her eyes at him.

  
"Do what?" Ben grouched, knitting his eyebrows at the accusation. "I have no idea what you’re _talking_ about."

  
Casting him another suspicious glance, Rey stamped out of the room and into the corridor without saying a word. The air was much warmer there — the way it should be.

  
She crossed her arms, trying to think. It didn’t make any _sense_.

  
Just then, she was alerted by the sound of doors opening at the far side of the corridor. Rey squinted, trying to make out who it was. The figure was now coming approaching, and she recognized the young, red-haired pilot, the one who was friends with Poe. If only she could put a name to the face—

  
"Kieron?" she ventured, preemptively wincing in case she'd gotten in wrong.

  
"Hello, Rey-the-Jedi-protege!" he exclaimed across the hall. Rey inwardly cringed — what did she do to deserve _that_ new nickname — and went up to meet him half-way.

  
"How are you on this fine, triple sunny day?" he asked as they met a couple doors down Rey’s room.

  
"_Cold_," she complained, tilting her head in the direction of her door.

  
The boy nodded understandingly. "Yeah, me too. I was just about to go and investigate what the deal was, myself."

  
So it wasn’t just her room after all. That certainly ruled Ben out as a suspect, at least— not that he’d have any reason to mess with the temperature, anyway. And if the other quarters indeed had the same problem — Rey realized, her eyes widening — then it could only mean one thing.

  
_ Rose, what happened last night?_

* * *

Rey was lounging on the bed with her arms hugging her sides, slightly shivering and bored out of her mind. It wasn’t late enough to go to sleep yet, and Ben was annoyingly preoccupied with the contents of his book, paying her no mind. After making him grudgingly scoot over — the spot he left behind pleasantly warm — they were close enough, laying side by side on top of the sheets, that she could make out some of the words if she leaned in a bit closer, but the flashes of dates and unpronounceable names she'd never heard of made for a convincing argument not to bother. Rey thought about her morning’s intention to thank him for his last evening’s efforts once again, but now that her blood and tongue weren’t warmed up by alcohol anymore — quite the opposite, in fact — she found herself unable to find the words. So Rey looked around the room, trying to think of something else to show her gratitude with.

  
"Do you want my Jedi tomes?" she asked, feeling a spark of childish defiance upon imagining how abhorred Luke would be if he saw them now.

  
"What Jedi tomes?" Ben turned his head, a sole, rebellious strand of hair falling over his forehead. Rey suppressed a momentary urge to brush it back.

  
"The ones that Luke had, they are really— old."

  
At this point, Rey was certain she'd get absolutely no use out of them. Ben, at least, seemed to enjoy reading about history, for stars know what reason.

  
"_They are really old_," he echoed, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement as the line of his mouth softened. "I take if you haven’t read them, then?"

  
"No," she admitted, "but R2 transferred the translated texts into a datapad, I don’t really need the actual books anymore. So— do you want them? They’re just gathering dust on my shelf."

  
"No, thank you. I read them while I was at the academy." Then he lowered the book and cocked his head. "There is something you could give me, though."

  
"What?"

"You could give me my lightsaber back. I can fix it."

  
"Because yours is the definition of expert craftsmanship, right?" Rey scoffed. "No, thank you, this one already blew up once."

  
Ben visibly puffed up like an offended cuckoo hen. "There’s nothing wrong with my lightsaber, the crossguard offers a valuable strategic edge to various offensive forms—"

  
"Oh, _please_." Rey rolled her eyes. "We both know you only chose that design because you love showing off."

  
He'd opened his mouth, apparently dead set on snipping something back, when the sound of crinkling static cut him off.

  
They exchanged a look of momentary bewilderment.

  
"Is it coming from your end? I can’t tell." Rey glanced at the intercom panel by the door.

  
"No, ours sounds a lot clearer than that," he answered, the spat forgotten, and a look of apprehensiveness dawning on his face.

  
"_Hi, hello, this is Rose, the mechanic, talking— speaking? Speaking._"

  
Rey exhaled, equal surges of relief and amusement flooding through her. Relief— well, for the obvious reasons of living another day. Amusement — due to being barely able to suppress a wild roar of laughter upon seeing the aghast confusion on Ben’s face. The First Order announcements most probably never started with that grandiose gem of an opening line.

  
"_You may or may not have noticed certain sections of the facility being slightly, uhh— colder today. Don’t worry, the situation is under control. We had a minor accident yesterday, and, uhh— someone may have forgotten to reset the climate controls systems which may have made the temperature drop considerably during the night. It’ll take a while for it to heat up again, but everything should be back to normal by tomorrow morning! Sorry, guys, and, uhh— yeah, sorry_."

  
The crinkling of the static terminated, and the broadcast was over.

  
Ben looked awe-struck almost to the point of being impressed. "What is going _on_ in that decrepit base of yours?"

  
Rey ignored him, instead opting to wallow in self-misery. "Back to normal by _tomorrow?_ I’m dying here _right now_."

  
He looked her over. "I can give you my cloak for the night."

  
Rey thought it over for a spell. Ben kept catching her off guard with how surprisingly quickly he always seemed to offer, to give. She knew the cloak he was talking about, it was certainly big enough to serve as an extra blanket and made from a fabric thick enough to keep the cold at bay. As tempting as though the offer may be, though, it felt wrong to accept his help two nights in a row. Yesterday she'd been too helpless to refuse. Today, however, she would suffer through this with her pride intact. At least until the next disaster, that is.

"No," she replied, half expecting to see her own breath.

Ben made a wordless sound of unimpressed acknowledgment at the back of his throat.

"Why don’t you stop _whining_, then," he grumbled, returning to his book.

There was another way out of the situation, she realized. She _could_ spend the night on the Falcon again. She could. But, as Rey hugged her knees to keep herself from shaking, she found that she really didn’t _want_ to.

  
It was because of the porgs, Rey decided. The porgs were even more annoying than Ben.

  
"Rey, I can’t concentrate when your teeth are constantly _chattering_—"

  
"Then stop _listening_—"

  
Ben snapped the book shut. "Will you stop acting like a child and take the kriffing cloak?"

  
_"I’m fine!_" Rey hissed, watching Ben’s expression quickly turn disturbingly furious as he tossed the book aside, and—

  
Took her hands in his.

  
He wasn’t wearing his gloves so when their skin touched — only for the second time in their lives, she realized — it was as if the whole world suddenly went still, and it was just them and the Force and the sunlight.

  
Ben's hands were so much larger than hers — and _warmer_ — easily enveloping Rey’s trembling ones in a firm but gentle hold that made her think of how the first rays of dawn felt on her face after a sleepless night in Jakku. He was staring down at the scene of the crime, looking as surprised as Rey did. But he didn’t let go.

And neither did she.

  
"It’s okay to lean on people sometimes," Ben said, lifting up his gaze to meet hers, his voice taking on the soft, smooth quality of glowing embers that sounded like music to Rey’s ears. "You don’t have to suffer through everything alone just because that’s what you’re used to."

  
He gave her hands a tiny, reassuring squeeze, and Rey returned it, feeling her heart pounding in her chest, and her blood reluctantly heat up from his touch, coursing upwards and upwards until it reached her stunned face.

  
"Your hands are freezing," he insisted, his voice now so quiet it was barely a whisper. "Take the cloak. Please."

* * *

"And then Poe said that the person who boarded the Supremacy was some sort of a Resistance defector— _no, don’t laugh, that is not funny!_"

  
"I’m not—" Ben’s hand had shot up to his mouth, stifling the unmistakable sound of a wheeze that was coming from underneath it. "I’m not."

  
They had got to talking after Rey had finally agreed to his offer, wrapping herself up in his cloak like a cocoon with only her head peeking out of the pitch-black fabric. It had certainly made a difference — not enough to stop her from shivering completely, or the warmth from reaching her fingertips that now felt particularly frozen — but it was enough for the time being.

  
"Why did you have to mention it was someone from the Resistance at all?" she grumbled.

  
"What else was I supposed to do? I can’t outright admit to treason."

  
Rey sighed. "I just hope it doesn’t get out that it was me."

  
"What’s the worst that could happen if it did? It’s not like they would kick you out," Ben pointed out, closing his eyes and stretching out his muscles, the book — long forgotten — sliding off of his stomach as his back arched.

  
Rey blinked, momentarily distracted by the way his undershirt bunched up and revealed a trail of dark hair that kept going downwards and downwards, disappearing behind the waistband of his pants.

  
"Uhh—" she vocalized dumbly, trying to catch the thread of the conversation that was now lost to her.

  
"You think they would?" Ben turned his attention back to her, blissfully unaware of the blank state of her mind. "Kick you out?"

  
"No need to act so _hopeful_," Rey huffed, thinking it over. "Probably not, but, then again, I don’t think there’s been a precedent of cooperation between the Resistance and the First Order on quite this scale before."

* * *

  
  
If the cold was bad in the evening, it was even worse when they'd actually gone to sleep. Rey had changed into her sleeping clothes — that only consisted of of a nondescript, extremely oversized men’s shirt swiped straight from the Resistance’s inventory room — in a foolish hope that once she burrowed under sheets and covered her side of the bed with the cloak, she’d feel better.

  
No such luck, of course.

  
She contracted her body into a fetal position, smoothing her palms over her upper arms again and again in an effort to stave off the goosebumps.

  
Rey could feel Ben’s gaze boring into her back. At that point, she’d been trying — with no success— to warm herself up enough to fall asleep for what seemed an hour but was probably closer to around ten miserably long minutes. Even though she couldn’t see Ben’s face and neither of them had exchanged a word since they’d gotten under the sheets, she could feel his Force signature — so radiant it was almost sharp — mingling with hers as all of his attention was focused in on her.

  
Rey frowned to herself. It would be easier if her measly attempts at self-preservation didn’t have an audience. Was he _waiting_ for something?

  
If he did, Ben didn’t voice it out loud. Instead he merely lay on his side, keeping silent. Expectant, even. Expectant and very, very still. 

  
That was when it finally dawned on her— this ludicrous, ridiculous idea. So obvious it was almost funny. It also explained why he wasn’t going to be the one to suggest it out loud. He needed to hear it from her because this was—

  
This would almost feel like a jump too fast, too far, like overstepping a hazardous boundary that had been kept carefully guarded without ever mentioning it out loud. And then Rey thought back to how ludicrous the concept of even sharing the bed with him had seemed at first, and now, only a couple of days later—

  
Now it seemed like something they had always done. Natural, in their own twisted way. Maybe this wouldn’t be that bad, either. It wouldn’t even mean anything — it was just out of necessity, that’s all.

  
Rey swallowed.

  
"Ben? Are you asleep?" she asked, knowing that he wasn’t, in a voice so low she could barely hear it herself.

  
A soft little hum of negation came from behind her. She inhaled deeply. 

  
"Will you—"

  
Stars, why did she suddenly sound so _small_?

  
"Will you hold me?" Rey asked her nightstand, hating herself for not being to ask it to his face. "To keep me warm?"

  
A silence followed. They’ve shared many, some full of animosity, others — almost comfortable, but this one—

  
This one was by far the worst one she’d experienced. Rey knew he wasn’t asleep — his Force signature was practically crackling with _something_, but if he was indeed feeling conflicted, Ben showed no outward signs of it. Not even a confirmation that he’d heard her at all, and, stars, Rey was already swearing to herself that she wasn't going to ask again — that she would never, _ever_ ask again, no, she’d rather _die_ from hypothermia than—

  
"Are you sure?" he asked calmly, cautiously. "It’s a bit—"

  
"I know," Rey murmured, trying her hardest not to let relief stain her voice, "but you said I need to ask for help more often, and that is what I’m do—"

  
After being still for so long, he’d moved towards with speed that caught her off guard like a predator jumping on its prey. Except that it wasn’t aggressive all, no, he reached out with his left her and pulled her flush to himself, and it was so, so—

  
"_Warm_," she smiled lazily, feeling his heated, broad frame press up against her back, and it was like she could breathe again, like her lungs had started thawing out from a layer of ice. She inhaled, sending shivers down her entire body. Rey marveled, just briefly, at how well their bodies fit together, now that they were pressed up against each other, their size difference serving to complement what turned out to be a perfect fit, how the combined comfort of feeling bare skin against skin made the Force around them _sing_, because now, this close, there wasn’t any differentiating as to whose signature belongs to whom — it was _theirs_, and it _sang_.

  
He snaked his left arm against her trembling waist and looped it around her, and Rey now felt that he was ever so slightly shaking, too— but it couldn’t have been from the cold.

  
Rey could feel Ben's heart fluttering wildly, matching hers, his breath a gentle tickling at the back of her neck. She closed her eyes then, letting herself be enveloped by his warmth, by _him_, sighing, as for a single, starry minute, it felt so right, so impossibly, perfectly _right_ that she had forgotten who they were.

  
But then Rey remembered.

  
"Just for tonight," she mumbled into the twilight.

  
Ben didn’t answer, but the arm around her pulled Rey even closer into his burning embrace.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'm very sorry about the delay - I've been busy with university and also feeling a bit under the weather. I offer this mammoth of a chapter as my apology! <3
> 
> Just a reminder that I have a [tumblr](https://themoonmoths.tumblr.com/), where among all the Reylo gifs you can also find updates about my progress on the fic (or the lack of it). :D

It was breakfast time, and Rose had just finished recounting her yesterday’s frantic attempts at reversing what she had aptly coined the Coldocalypse. Rey was only half-listening, periodically weaving in a nod or two in-between bites of toast. The bread was fresh, with an enticing, golden crust peeking out around the edges of the red oi-oi jam, but Rey could not recall a time when she had eaten real food with less enthusiasm.

  
She chalked it up to her inexplicably queasy stomach — it had a slightly trembling, fluttering feeling to it that would not cease, as if a part of her body was still stuck suffering from the aftereffects of last night's ephemeral winter. And so, Rey swallowed the food mechanically, staring into the distance, when a figure entered her field of view, whisking her out of the reverie.

  
It was a man, around his thirties, with strikingly emerald eyes, a slightly upturned nose and a quiff of frosted white hair so light it almost blended into his matching complexion. He sat down, no, _perched_ on top of the bench across from Rey and Finn, and next to a slightly confused Rose whose fork had frozen mid-air. 

  
The stranger chuckled at the warm welcoming and, with a flash of snow white teeth, extended a hand to Finn.

  
"You must be Finn, the hero of the Resistance," he said, eyes widening in apparent excitement. "It’s an honor to finally meet you, man."

  
Finn, having snapped out of his perplexed state, blinked and jolted his hand forward, knocking over a salt shaker in the process.

  
The man beamed even wider and scrunched his nose in delight. Finn opened his mouth, then, but before he got a chance to get a word out, the stranger had turned his full attention to Rose.

  
"If he’s Finn, you must be Rose, right?" he asked, holding out his hand to her. She returned the greeting, though with a frown beginning to form on her face.

  
"I’ve gotten an earful about you from Poe, you little minx," he said, giving a wink to Rose, who merely shook her head in response and exchanged a look of bewilderment with the equally confused Finn.

  
The man’s piercing gaze stopped at Rey, next, and something about the way his eyes seemed to positively spark with fervent _satisfaction_ made her put up her mental shields as an inadvertent defense mechanism, despite having no indication that he was Force-sensitive himself.

  
"And _you_," he breathed, voice dripping with excitement. "You must be Rey — I’m a _big_ fan of your work."

  
"Uhh—-" Rey vocalized, like her friends, too taken aback to manage a proper response. "Thank you?"

  
"Dude, who _are_ you?" Finn finally asked, giving a voice to the question on all of their minds.

  
"Oh," he flashed another, gleaming smile and waved to someone behind Rey, "I just arrived. I’m a friend of Poe’s."

  
"Is that so?" Rose sounded skeptical. "And what do you do, exactly?"

  
He looked right at Rey again, as if _she’d_ been the one asking the question, and his mouth twitched like both of them were in on some sort of an inside joke. He then nodded and lifted up a hand to signal a pause to the conversation.

  
Rey, growing more exasperated with the the newcomer's antics by the second, turned around and found Poe standing there, looking mildly sleep-deprived, but otherwise as effervescent as always. He clasped Finn’s shoulder, giving it an affectionate thump.

  
"Making friends already, I see," he grinned. "I like it."

  
The mystery man laughed, earning a poorly hidden scowl from Finn. "Yeah, me too."

  
"This is Deen. He’s the slicer from Coruscant I told you guys about," Poe explained. "He arrived earlier this morning."

  
That was when Rey looked back at Deen, finding his gaze already fixed on her face, studying her with anticipation that made her stomach drop from the cold, sharp realization of what was about to unfold. It all had happened quickly, too quickly — Rey’d had no time to prepare. She knew that this moment would come eventually, but it was always in a nondescript future, where she shared a preplanned speech with the blurry figures of her smiling friends, where the air shimmered with tender understanding because she had chosen the right _words_. Words that she hadn’t yet found.

  
A corner of Deen's mouth rose.

  
"Poe?" he asked innocently, still keeping his eyes on Rey, his voice the sweetest honey. "Remember that First Order footage I was gonna show you later? The one with the defector?"

  
Rey swallowed, frozen in place and utterly unable to look away from the man who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere with the sole purpose of wreaking havoc on her life.

  
"I think Rey here needs to see it, too, " he added warmly, mercilessly. "After all, _she’s its main star_."

When had the mess hall become so quiet? Rey tore away her gaze from his and looked around, finding every single head in the room turned towards her, a tense, eerie stillness hanging over the room.

  
"Watch your kriffing mouth," Finn snarled, his words echoing over the silent hall. He shook off Poe’s hand and scrambled to his feet. "And think before you speak the next time you throw around accusations like that."

  
Deen’s eyebrows shot up, and he leaned back, looking more amused than ever, positively gleaming at the attention the scene had gotten.

  
"What is this?" Rose frowned. "How can Rey be the defector if she's_ right here_?"

  
"Seriously, man — that’s not funny," Poe shook his head, voice low and tone uncertain. "Rey saved all of us back on Crait, show some respect."

  
"Well?" Deen asked, ignoring all of them and addressing her. "Anything to say for yourself?"

  
"I think—" Rey hissed through gritted teeth. "I think there’s been a misunderstanding."

  
"So you deny boarding the Supremacy and helping Kylo Ren?" he asked. Rey clenched her fists to stop herself from punching the smugness off his face.

  
"Dude, quit it — Rey’s accounted for, she was with Luke Skywalker that entire time," Poe said, growing louder in rising agitation.

  
"If only there was some proof that she _wasn’t_," Deen scoffed. "That Jedi girl of yours might be a First Order plant, you need to get her out of here as soon as possible."

  
Rey distantly registered raised voices coming from behind her, but paid them no mind. All she saw and heard was red.

  
"_What_?" she growled, now getting up herself with a fork tightly clasped in her hand, ready to strike. Rey felt like a cornered animal — wild and furious, and _alive_, itching for an excuse to attack, the arguments for resolving the situation peacefully fading behind the heady hymn of blood singing in her veins. "You have literally no idea what you’re talking about, you—"

  
"Will you all SHUT UP?" Poe yelled out, casting an angry glance around the increasingly clamoring hall. He drew in a breath and rubbed his eyes in frustration. "Let me _think_ for a second."

  
What followed was a stand-still, with Rey and Deen glaring at each other across the mess table, daring the other to make a move, the former armed with a fork and the latter — with words, both preparing for battle.

  
"Hold on," Rose was seemingly unaffected by the staring contest happening right next to her, an absent-minded frown resting on her face. "That rescue mission that you told us about, the one you left Ahch-To early for… That was a lie, wasn’t it?"

  
Rey closed her eyes, then, bracing for the impact.

  
_This was it,_ she thought. _The point of no return._

  
"Yes, I lied. There was no rescue mission, " she said, raising her voice for everyone to hear. "I went to Kylo Ren."

  
The room around her exploded into a piercing cacophony of yells and accusations, and hollers that threatened to swallow Rey whole, to drown her under the collective weight of everyone’s vitriol, a wave of revolt resonating in the Force and rendering her nauseous.

  
But she would weather this storm the same way she always had, the same way she would the next one, and the one after that. She had to.

  
"She _what_—"

  
"Someone get General Organa—"

  
"Go back to the First Order, traitor, Kylo Ren must miss you—"

  
"This is absurd, how do we know she’s not leaking our intel to the First Order—"

  
But it wasn’t the racket around her that made Rey turn her head. It was a plea coming from somewhere nearby, barely audible over all the noise. She looked up, finding Finn there — neither furious nor confused like the rest of them. The only thing on his face was— heartbreak.

  
"Rey, tell me this isn’t true," he whispered, eyes glistening with tears. "Tell me— tell me he _tricked_ you, or something."

  
And just like that, the fight went out of her, and Rey could only echo his misery in return. Not because she was sorry, no, but because she had hurt them, _lied_ to them. Her only friends.

  
Rey looked around at the only family she had ever known, upon the faces that, save for one, now gawked at her as if she were an intruder. That was when she saw Leia, frozen in the doorway, holding onto the frame with an expression of utter incredulity.

  
"He didn’t trick me, I went of my own free will."

  
Rey’s next words were only meant for her. "But I can explain _everything_."

* * *

The air in the briefing area was pleasantly cool, though Rey couldn’t decide whether the drop in temperature had come from the repaired climate controls or the cold, grim stares directed at her from across the table. Ever since the holoprojector had grudgingly lit up its surroundings in a blue glow, revealing two figures in a turbolift, a suffocating silence had enveloped the room, periodically interrupted only by random clinking coming from the decrepit device. Deen had somehow recovered the silent security footage from the depths of the internal First Order network, and even though it only showed a hand-cuffed Rey talking to Ben, there was absolutely no mistaking her walking up to him — had they really stood that _close_ — and clearly mouthing the words '_I’ll help you_'.

  
Sensing that she was in hot water, Rey had started talking, then, telling the (almost) full story — Luke’s reluctant disposition towards training her, the Force bond, her hope of turning Kylo Ren back to the light.

  
She knew that Deen was a lost cause from the get-go, but Rey had hoped that Poe, at least, would show some sympathy. Her story, however, seemed to have the opposite effect — she could see his face harden with every word she said. As to how Leia was taking it, there was no way of telling — after the footage had started, she hadn’t uttered a word, remaining stone-faced and indifferent like she watching the weather report. When Rey had reached the part where she and Ben touched hands for the first time, Leia got up and went to stand by the window with her back to the table, a position she kept for rest of Rey’s account of the events leading up to Crait.

  
But the story was over now, and still nobody spoke up. Rey had expected questions, requests for some time-line clarification, inquiries about the layout of the Supremacy, even accusations, but there was nothing, and she found that to be even more disturbing than being yelled at. Some details had been purposefully left out — such as the fact that the connections were still ongoing with astonishing regularity, that they, in fact, seemed to get longer with each day, that Rey and Ben had been speaking a lot lately, that last night, being locked in his embrace was by far the—

  
Those details were private.

  
"Rey, dear," Leia finally broke the silence, turning around to face the room. "Would you clear something up for me?"

  
Rey nodded eagerly, the calmness in Leia's voice soothing her entire being.

  
"Maybe I heard it incorrectly," she said. "Did my son really _propose_ to you?"

  
Rey blinked. Out of all the questions she had expected to receive, that one was decidedly not high on the list. Stars, to Rey it hadn't even been _on_ the list.

  
Utterly taken aback, she stammered. "Uhh, well—"

  
Leia’s eyes sparkled with something akin to delight. "He did, didn’t he?"

  
"Not— not exactly in those words, but—’’

  
"But that is what he meant, correct? Both of you, ruling the galaxy together?"

  
"I suppose he did, but I said no, obviously."

  
_And I was this close to saying yes_, Rey thought, biting her tongue.

  
"How is this _relevant_ to anything, exactly?" Poe interrupted sharply. "What we should be focusing on right now is how we can use this— this bond of theirs to our advantage. We could win the war with it if we play our cards right."

  
Deen, who so far had remained silent, nodded in agreement. "How do we know she’s not working for them after all, as far as I’m concerned—"

  
"Oh, _shush_, you two," Leia rolled her eyes impatiently, coaxing a smile out of Rey, her first one of the day. "This is obviously a very— _delicate_ situation."

  
"Is it?" Deen asked cooly. "I think your touchingly misguided sympathy for your son is clouding your judgement. If Rey had been in contact with literally _anyone else_ in the First Order, even if it were just a radar technician or something, she’d be kept under close supervision. Which, by the way, is what we should do from now on."

  
"What have I done to deserve all this mistrust, exactly? " Rey asked, throwing a pointed glance in his direction.

  
"Except for lying, you mean? Nothing," Deen’s mouth twisted into a smirk. "Yet."

  
Poe, whose eyes up until this point had been glued to the conversation participants, turned his head to the windowed wall, deep in thought.

  
"Does this mean that you two are still in contact?" Leia inquired, ignoring the men’s pointed remarks.

  
Rey hesitated to reply, quickly sorting through her memories of the previous week and considering what to give up. "Yes, sometimes. We have no control over it — the connection can open up and close at any point."

  
It was a white lie — she couldn’t see the benefit of revealing more.

  
Leia nodded. "We’ll figure how to handle this. In the meantime, I have a small favor to ask," she said.

  
"Of course, anything," Rey whispered. Leia seemed to be the only one not treating her like an explosive charge — whatever she needed, Rey would do.

  
"The next time you talk to Ben, relay him a message from me, won’t you? Tell him—" Leia's voice trailed out for a spell. "Tell Ben I want him to come home. I know he won’t, he’s almost as stubborn as I am, but he needs to hear it. I want my boy home."

* * *

Just when she was about to return to her room, Poe caught up with her. Rey, who’d had her fill for the day, rolled her eyes and opened the door, fully intent on slamming it shut in his face if need be. Her plans for the evening consisted of locking herself in and spending some time meditating — the last thing she needed to hear was more drivel about her being a First Order spy.

  
Poe grabbed her upper arm, not too strongly, but enough to stop Rey in her tracks.

  
"Look," he urged in a low voice, "you might have convinced General Organa, but don’t take me for a fool. I know you’re still not telling the whole truth."

  
"_Don’t touch me,_" she hissed, jerking out of his hold.

  
"Yeah, you only allow Kylo Ren to do that, right?" he scoffed, leaning up against the wall. "I remember the way you acted when I walked you to your room the other day — you thought I was him. The way you—"

  
He trailed off as Rey met his eyes.

  
"I what?" she asked, cold and defiant, and done explaining herself. "Say it."

  
Poe didn’t answer and merely crossed his arms, the frustration in his eyes slightly dimming down.

  
"I don’t understand you," he said, sounding almost sad. "He had multiple chances to do the right thing for once in his miserable life, and he spat in the face of all of them. You belong here, Rey. With us, the good guys, remember? Don’t throw that away for him, of all people."

  
_I wish I could be like you_, Rey thought bitterly after she had, in fact, slammed the door in his face. _I wish I knew where I was supposed to be._

* * *

If one thing went according to plan that day, it was that Rey, indeed, did not leave her room after the talk with Poe. Her dinner consisted of a few ration bars she had stashed in her closet for emergencies. They were dry, bland, with a suspicious aftertaste of dirt, but she didn’t mind — at this point she would rather eat actual sand than go out there and deal with seeing resentment greet her at every step. By now, the entire base probably knew — enough out them had witnessed the scene in the morning to spread the word about the identity of the mysterious defector. The traitor.

  
Rey passed the time by meditating. She was once again trying to draw energy from her source across the stars, but this time she met with an obstacle. Her comforting speck of warmth was _seething_, almost too hot to even approach, let alone touch. She felt its jagged energy spilling over into _her_, screaming with a desperate, raw hurricane. Rey shuddered.

  
Somewhere on the side of the galaxy, Ben was furious.

  
  
Rey tried to wait up on him, but hours kept ticking by, the evening had already turned into night and Ben was still nowhere to be seen. She tried more meditation, but the knot of anxiety in her stomach mercilessly kept twisting tighter, rendering any plans of clearing her mind again near impossible. That was when she finally gave up, put on her sleeping shirt and curled up in the bed.

  
She spent another hour tossing and turning, uncomfortable with the vast planes of dead space around her. Rey kept waiting and waiting, and just when the citrine light drifting in around the edges of the curtains slowly started turned into rich honey, she finally managed to succumb to a restless sleep.

  
When Rey woke up, it was from the sound of thunder — a violent crashing and crackling in the distance, and an electric _screeching_ that tolled before every boom that sounded so much like—

  
Her eyes snapped open, and she jolted herself upwards, reaching underneath the bed for her quarterstaff, Rey's mind a jumbled mess of panic, immediately jumping to the worst conclusion — that they’d been attacked at night, that _Ben_ had somehow found them and started attacking. As her fingers fumbled blindly for her weapon, the distant commotion subsided, and when Rey lifted up her head, she found a panting Ben in the middle of the room with the hilt of his now extinguished lightsaber in his right hand, strands of sweat-slick hair sticking to his brow.

  
"Did you just—" Rey cleared her sleep-clogged throat. "Did you just smash up your bedroom?"

  
Ben glanced at the weapon as if he’d forgotten it was there and tossed it to his left. It landed on something invisible with a soft thud.

  
"Not my bedroom," he murmured, undoing his belt and taking off his tunic, before disappearing out of her field of view somewhere behind the closet. The chrono readout showed it was four in the morning, meaning Rey had only slept for a few hours. Returning to it, however, was the last thing on her mind right now.

  
Ben was gone for quite a while — Rey thought she heard the muted sound of running water in the distance. She waited patiently, reflecting on the promise made to Leia and ultimately deciding that Ben was clearly not in stable enough state to handle a message from his estranged mother. Rey had no interest in watching him destroy his bedroom, too. The message could wait at least until tomorrow.

  
When Ben finally returned, he was already in his sleeping pants. His hair was damp and uncharacteristically flat, making the tips of his ears peek out. It was almost charming.

  
He proceeded to climb onto the bed without any further commentary, and Rey scooted over from the middle to give him some space. He settled in on his back, staring up at the ceiling, and Rey could feel the same discontented energy she’d sensed during the day, but much more concentrated now, resonating in the Force around them in red hot waves.

  
"How bad is it?" she inquired, already knowing the answer.

  
"Like you wouldn’t believe."

  
"You’d be surprised," Rey said, turning to the side and propping her head up on her hand. "Try me."

  
A flicker of reluctance washed over his features, and for a moment it seemed like Ben was about to close up the same way as the last time Rey had felt bold enough to ask. But, just as she was about to lose hope, he started speaking.

  
"Hux’s pet project got approved today. It had been a— hotly contested topic for the past week. I fought it all the way through, but my hand was forced."

  
"Forced into what?" Rey asked quietly.

  
"Into approving it," he mumbled with a slight quiver of his chin. 

  
Rey had a feeling she didn’t want to know, but the question needed to be asked. "What is it, exactly?"

  
Ben hesitated, his dark gaze flickering over to her face before returning to burning a hole in the ceiling. "You’ll see. The announcement goes out tomorrow, it will be transmitted on all channels across the galaxy."

  
"Why didn’t you stop it if you hate it so much? Aren’t you the Supreme—"

  
"I am one person against many," he interjected, though without any ire. "There’s only so much I can do with next to no support. If I scrapped the project, I’d have a revolt on my hands. Rey, the First Order would split permanently."

  
She could feel her heart beating faster, against her better judgment almost _offended_ by the idea of Ben bending to anyone’s will but his own.

  
"So you’ll let Hux push you around, instead? Does that mean he gets to do whatever he wants under the threat of an uprising?" she asked, unable to contain rising resentment from seeping into her voice. "I thought you were stronger than that."

  
He didn’t get angry, didn’t bite something back, didn't even use his special talent of weaving in insults about the Resistance no matter the discussion topic. When Ben replied, he sounded merely— exhausted, and somehow that was even worse. "This is much bigger than me. I have the well-being of the First Order to consider, millions of lives that depend on me."

  
"What about the well-being of the trillions of lives in the galaxy?"

  
Ben covered his face with the palms of his hands and inhaled deeply. Rey half-expected him to start screaming, but he managed to hold it together. "Do you think I don’t _know_ that? Do you think even a minute goes by without me thinking about—" he cut himself off, taking a moment to gather himself. "Go back to sleep, I really can’t do this right now."

  
Rey acquiesced, lying back down. She couldn’t be his moral compass — Ben needed to figure out where he stood by himself. This was his battle to fight, and she had hers. It was almost ironic, how similar their situations seemed to be, though on vastly different scales.

  
There was Kylo Ren, with the galaxy in his grasp and more alone than ever.

  
And Rey, amidst her new-found family, feeling the same.

  
They both settled in for the night in complete silence. Rey was ready to get some much needed respite from all her troubles, but minutes kept passing with her trying fruitlessly to coax her body into a relaxed state, and the welcome oblivion of sleep was nowhere to be seen.

  
It was Ben, she realized, as tense as a bow string, his Force signature crackling with panic — so vicious, so overwhelming it was distracting to _her_. Rey tried forcing herself to close her eyes and leaving him to reflect on the choices he’s made, but it was easier said than done. How could she, when he was right _there_, being a lump of misery and clearly expecting a sleepless night?

  
Surely something could be done for the sake of both of them having a sound rest, and Rey knew that she _shouldn’t_, Poe’s harsh reality check from earlier still ringing in her ears, but, stars—

  
After the kind of day that she’d had, she needed this, too.

  
And so Rey took a leap of faith, crossing the cosmic chasm between them right into his arms.

  
"What are you d—" was all Ben managed to ask, frozen in his place.

  
"Hush," she chided softly, arranging his stiff right arm further out so she could get in right next to him and placing her head on his shoulder, trying desperately not to overthink it. He needed to be held, and so did she — they both happened to be nearby, and that was all there was to it.

  
She felt him draw a sharp breath. Then, as if a switch had been turned on, Ben _melted_ into her touch, wrapping his arm around her waist in a tight embrace and pressing the line of her body snug against himself. His skin was still pleasantly cool from the 'fresher, with a light, bitter-sweet scent of oranges, black pepper and subtle traces of sandalwood, smelling like Rey’s idea of a tropical garden she’d never been to.

  
She momentarily squirmed around, trying out different places on his shoulder and eventually finding a smooth expanse of dotted skin underneath his right clavicle so infuriatingly comfortable it was almost like it had been designed with that specific purpose in mind. That was where she decided to camp out for the night, resting her forehead against the side of his jaw.

  
"It’s going to be okay," she whispered, telling it as much to him as to herself. "Maybe not tomorrow, but someday, somehow. It will be okay."

  
Rey then followed her instinct and placed a hand on his chest — a movement that made his body _flinch_. Ben replied by tracing a slow, delicate line upwards from the base of her spine with the tips of his fingers, stopping at the nape of her neck and sending a net of involuntary goosebumps down her entire body. Rey sighed in contentment. Such contentment, in fact, that a tiny voice at the back of her mind was already whispering about how much she’ll always crave this kind of closeness now, because Rey had always been nothing but self-sufficient, and the last thing she needed was to be dependent on someone else. But that was a problem for another day.

  
For now, Rey was perfectly happy to lie there until she drifted off, listening to the steady beat of his heart, steady and strong, but— she couldn’t. Rey could still sense some remnants of his internal conflict eating away at him with the persistence of a malevolent tumor — somehow Ben was still _brooding_. The best temporary fix, in her experience, was to avoid thinking about it at all, especially here, while the Force all around was glimmering with nothing but _them_.

  
"Tell me something nice," she asked quietly.

  
"Something nice?"

  
"Yes, like—" She recalled the conversations she’d had in the climate controls room. "What is the most beautiful planet you’ve ever been to?"

  
Ben hummed, taking a moment to reflect. He had a lot of options to choose from, since he probably saw more planets in a week than Rey had in her entire life.

  
"Kiros," he answered. "It’s an artists’ colony in the Expansion Region. I went there once when I was eleven, accompanying— Leia to some kind of a summit. I don’t remember much about the event itself, but I do recall the planet well. There were cliffs with waterfalls so high the tops of them reached into the clouds."

  
When they were this close, touching each other, the already elusive boundary between them seemed to disintegrate to almost nothing, letting her easily catch a glimpse of a sun-drenched, deep green valley surrounded by mountains with near vertical slopes, white clouds lazily brushing over their forested summit plateaus, and multiple waterfalls, cascading down with a booming rumble, rainbows reflecting in the watery mist around them. Rey had fantasized about forests, oceans, meadows and everything in-between, all the places she wanted to see, but even her wildest fantasies seemed modest compared to a view this _ambitious_.

  
"I see it," she smiled into his skin. "Show me more."

  
The next one was a fragment of a memory. It was of a banquet hall, draped in warm light from elaborate golden chandeliers that flickered over a massive crowd of people, all dressed in formal attire, the deafening sound of their chatter, laughter and the clinking of champagne glasses almost completely drowning out a waltz playing in the background. The room was full to the brim, and in the middle of it all was Ben, trying to spot his mother’s buns in the sea of humans, humanoids and every other type of sentient species imaginable, their presence so overwhelming that Ben couldn’t even sense his mother’s Force signature amidst all the interference. Flustered and utterly fed up with strangers that kept coming up and pinching his cheeks, he made a beeline for the wall and, quick as a flash, slipped out the open window into the cool night.

  
The building, situated in a village at the dead center of the valley, was just a couple of stories high, making the climb barely a challenge. A couple of windowsills, a rain gutter and a cornice later, he found himself on top of the flat roof, a nightly breeze caressing his flushed face. He drew a deep breath of fresh air that smelled like the earth, and the greenery, and everything good and alive. The valley splayed out in front of him, moonlight echoed in the distant, roaring waterfalls, and Ben lay down, crossing his arms behind his head, as he gazed up at the sky that glowed azure under the light of a million stars, feeling very small.

  
The memory flickered out like a holovid, but that final image of the sky still lingered in the Force around them, and Rey found herself nuzzling in closer as if that would make it last longer.

  
"Just for tonight?" Rey heard him ask under his breath with a faint, but unmistakable air of cockiness.

  
"Shut it," she mumbled, closing her eyes.

  
During the day both of them had to face the harsh realities of their lives, but here, in the dead of night, it was nice to pretend that she was just Rey and he was just Ben — a couple of nobodies holding each other without a care in the world and dreaming about the stars.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we begin, I want to give a quick shout-out to the amazing [ReyloBrit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReyloBrit/pseuds/ReyloBrit), who offered some much needed guidance for this chapter. <3

Rey woke up dazed, and warm, and so very comfortable inside the sun-draped burrow of her crumpled sheets, and—

  
Aroused.

  
It was nice in her room, and quiet. The redwood door now marked a sharp divide between the hectic reality and her own safe haven in which the only movement came from dust motes floating lazily in the morning sunlight, and where the only sound was her own steady breathing.

  
Rey stretched, a wave of tension that surged through her muscles sending pleasant shivers once it reached the aching apex of her thighs. She instinctively pressed them together, burrowing further into the sheets.

  
Truth be told, it had been a while since she had last allowed herself to indulge this way. What had been an almost nightly tradition back on Jakku — where there was next to _nothing_ to do in her Hellhound Two after the dark — was quickly sidelined by the galactic conflict she had found herself in the middle of. Though Rey had felt little throbs of need here and there, she had been quick to suppress her urges by simply making herself busy. Now, however, it seemed like her body had gotten tired of sending soft, little nudges as reminders, stopped trying to play it nice and slow, and launched her straight into insistent need, already seething with the enticing glow of burning embers.

  
She slithered her hand underneath her shirt, running her fingers over the plains of her stomach, and then lower still, teasing herself with soft, tiny caresses that left her abdominal muscles trembling with anticipation.

  
Rey didn’t know why she had stopped doing it, exactly, though she did have a vague _suspicion_, pushed far back into the corner of her most unwelcome thoughts where it almost never saw the light of day. But, since on that particular morning, she was in absolutely _no_ rush to leave her room and face the disapproving stares of the Resistance, and her body had already done half the work for her, there seemed to be no better time than the present.

  
Her right hand dipped underneath the waistband of her underwear.

  
The long nights spent all alone had made her an expert at taking care of herself quickly and efficiently. If all Rey wanted was to relieve the pressure, she could finish herself off in mere minutes — which was what she planned on doing now.

  
Her fingers sank into her slick folds, hips canting against her palm as she brushed against the spot that made her _hiss_, reveling in the delicious friction, now desperate to grind out every spark of pleasure with wild abandon.

  
Stars, she’d needed this. Needed this _bad_.

  
She applied a little more pressure, but it was enough to make her throw her head back into the pillows and arch her spine, Rey's riled-up mind conjuring image upon image of different scenes with her being touched, her being fucked, her being eaten out.

  
That last scenario was what she found the most enticing for the moment. She had never experienced the act herself — the entirety of her sexual experience could be summed up with her watching many a dirty holovid and catching a glimpse of way more than Rey wanted to see in the communal showers back on D’Qar. But she could, like many times before, imagine a very talented tongue belonging to a nondescript male, licking away with slow, steady strokes that set her very body on fire, except—

  
Except that this time, it wasn’t a random person at all, no, it was a very specific _someone_ whose raven hair would feel heavenly soft twisting around her fingers as she'd card them through his curls, before shamelessly pushing his head closer in urgent need to unfurl underneath his mouth right _now_—

  
Rey groaned, her body playing out the movements of her filthy fantasy as she bucked into her own hand, having found just the _right_ angle, mercilessly and completely lost in the dangerous realm of him, him, nothing but him — soft hair, soft lips sealing around her core and dark, ravenous eyes meeting hers across her body, his tongue licking a long, drawn-out line, going upwards, upwards, and flicking her clit— her back arched, and she was close, so _close_—

  
The intercom sparked to life with its signature crackling, and Rey grit her teeth, annoyed at having been so violently yanked out of her very primal headspace that she would inevitably feel so guilty about afterwards. Right now, though, she would milk it for all its worth, and her hand shot back down, intent on finishing the job before regret had a chance to kick in.

  
But then Poe spoke up, and the unusual solemnity in his voice brought the ever unwelcome reality back into her room with the harshness of a winter's gale.

  
"_We’ve gotten word from our slicer that there will be some kind of a First Order transmission, broadcast galaxy-wide, happening shortly. If any of you guys are interested in hearing the latest of what’s in store for our friends over at the First Order, feel free to stop by at warehouse A, just across the hangar. Wait— I’m being told it's about to go live. See you there._"

  
Rey momentarily covered her face with a pillow, barely able to stop herself from screaming, before jumping out of bed and quickly putting her clothes on.

* * *

The moment Rey entered warehouse A, it was as if a thick blanket was thrown over the chatter, muting it to low murmurs. She took a deep, shaking breath, a part of her already wishing she was back in her room, and proceeded forward into the already seated crowed with her chin held high, ignoring the pointed glances and whispers that dimmed and lit back up as soon as she passed by.

  
The empty warehouse had been hastily transformed into a makeshift holotheater, a random assortment of chairs, occupied by anxious faces, strewn around a large, bulky looking holoprojector in haphazard, concentric circles. The actual transmission hadn’t yet started, the slightly blue tinted standby image of the black, sixteen-rayed sun of the First Order floating above the gathered spectators like a silent, ominous cloud. She looked around, trying to spot a vacant seat, but seeing nothing apart from cold, barely-hidden side-eyes.

  
_Lovely_.

  
Then a bellowing growl came from somewhere to her right, echoing over the muted gossip. It was Chewie, sat in the back row, gesturing to an empty chair next to him, and somehow that tiny gesture of kindness was almost enough to make Rey burst into tears right then and there. She quickly made a beeline towards him, dashing by all the whispers, and the stares, and the disapproval, and plopped down next to him, nudging her shoulder against his affectionately.

  
"Thank you," she whispered.

  
Chewie looked her up and down in worry and asked a question.

  
"It’s nothing, don’t worry about it. I’m managing it."

  
She looked around, trying to find Finn and Rose amidst the crowd and spotting them on the other side of the holoprojector, looking straight at her. As their eyes met, Finn gave a curt nod and Rose waved, her usually radiant smile merely an uncertain flicker, gone as soon as it appeared. Seeing even her friends act that way stung, and also made her wonder.

  
"Chewie," she ventured. "How much does everyone _know_?"

  
She listened for a while as he, trying his best to keep his growling quiet — and failing spectacularly — explained away.

  
"Oh," was all she had to say, a rivulet of icy disappointment making its way through her veins. Last night Chewie had gotten the full story from one of the kitchen workers, who had heard it from someone who had, in turn, heard it from Poe.

  
Rey had hoped, foolishly, that all this _unpleasantness_ was due to the Resistance not knowing the full story. That perhaps if she told it all again, this time publicly, disclosing her reasons for doing what she did, everything would go back to normal. But by now, the entirety of the Resistance already knew it all — about the bond, about how Rey and Ben had killed Snoke together, the whole lot. And it seemingly hadn’t helped to earn their favor back in the slightest.

  
The chatter quieted down as Poe, Leia and Deen made a belated entry to the warehouse, proceeding straight to three empty seats in the front row and paying no mind to their anxiously buzzing surroundings. Their heads were pressed together in a heated debate, the contents of which not quite loud enough to reach Rey’s ears. None of them as much as looked at her, which, considering the present circumstances, was a welcome change.

  
Chewie, having noticed a shadow of her inner turmoil reflecting on her face, growled sympathetically.

  
"I’m _fine_!" Rey insisted, forcing herself to smile. "I’m sure they’ll come around eventually."

  
Another inquiry. This one made her pause.

  
"He’s— managing, too. In his own way."

  
He scoffed in Shyriiwook and nodded.

  
A blazing sound of a trumpet cut off all the ongoing conversation, the domineering beginning notes of the First Order anthem echoing through the warehouse. The broadcast had started, and thirty-odd grim faces awaited with bated breath. Rey’s hands clutched at the arm rests and, just for a split second, she wished that Ben was here with her, before realizing how nonsensical the very idea was and dismissing it entirely.

  
General Hux materialized in front of them, with the flag of the First Order behind him. He was wearing his full uniform — all sharp, clean angles, padded shoulders, not a hair out of place and back straight enough to put measuring sticks to shame. Hux crossed his arms behind his back, blue eyes gleaming in dispassionate superiority, and began.

  
"_To all the peoples of the galaxy, united beneath the banner of the First Order_," his singsong voice sounded through the room, shrill and unpleasant, and so very fitting to him. "_Today marks the dawn of a new era — one of prosperity, determination and obedience. Under the firm guiding hand of our new Supreme Leader, vast leaps in progress have been made to steer the stagnation of the galaxy into a novel direction, one of order and security. Seeds have already been planted — our newly elicited policies, devised with the intentions of cracking down on child labor, as well as our continual redirection of our naval forces to the Outer Rim as a counter measure to piracy, are already starting to bear their first fruit. Other legislations, such as enforced curfews and harsher penalties for first-time offenders are about to be implemented across_—"

  
"Can we skip this buffoonery forward or something? I’m about to fall asleep," heckled the red-haired pilot, Kieron, which got a couple of nervous chuckles out of the audience.

  
"_But, as has been the case throughout history, every progress is met with resistance, the clamoring of filth who wish for nothing more than to return to their pitiful ways of the past. To maintain the galaxy’s safety, the First Order has elected to construct a tool that would upkeep peace in perpetuity, a superweapon worthy enough to watch over the stars — Starkiller Supreme_."

  
"Such an original name," Poe tried to quip, but his words fell flat, suffocated under the heavy implications of the announcement.

  
A wave of nausea hit Rey all at once, and she bent forward in an effort to focus on her breathing, her mind a blank scream. This couldn’t be happening. Out of all things — not this, not _again_.

  
"_The construction shall commence shortly, and no amount of resources shall be spared in order to ensure as swift of a completion time as possible. Have no fear — it is not a tool of war, but merely a means of ensuring peace. Let us all rejoice on this glorious day, with the firm promise of a bright future ahead_—"

  
Rey looked down, feeling a sudden ghost of a sensation in the knuckles of her right hand. She stretched out her fingers, the warmth deep underneath her skin growing hotter until it almost reached an edge of pain. Rey rubbed on the area with her left hand, but the sensation wouldn’t dissipate, so she turned her focus back to the finishing lines of the broadcast.

  
"_All hail the First Order! All hail our Supreme Leader Kylo Ren!_

* * *

Evening came, and Rey paced around the bedroom with her teeth grit and the quarterstaff clutched in her hand.

  
She had managed to sneak out of the warehouse only hours after the broadcast's conclusion, exhausted from all the questioning where she had to repeat again and again that, no, she had no prior knowledge of Starkiller Supreme, only that Kylo Ren was forced into green-lighting it, yes, it had been Hux’s idea, yes, she’ll try and talk to him, no, she won’t let their location slip.

  
Rey kept circling the room, her emotions in complete disarray, hopping between anger, distress, sorrow, disappointment, and anger again. She had planned on preparing something to say, something that sufficiently conveyed how the hole he’d dug for himself was starting to resemble a bottomless pit, but many laps had been made and she was no closer to figuring out how to put that same idea into words that would genuinely get through to him. So she kept pacing with her weapon in hand — just in case it was anger she would end up settling on.

  
Ben appeared not long after, materializing in the middle of the bedroom so abruptly Rey almost ran straight into his chest. He made a move as if to catch her, but she jerked away at the last moment, taking a few steps back.

  
Their eyes locked, warm brown searching hazel, like two predatory animals evaluating each other’s strength before striking.

  
Just like Hux, he, too, was wearing his full get-up which included the long, sweeping cape and leather gloves, his hair meticulously styled in a halo of dark, lustrous curls. Rey realized — with considerable bitterness — that some sort of a celebratory event must have taken place. After all, it was not every day that the construction of a new superweapon was announced.

  
"Is that for me?" Ben asked placidly, gesturing his head towards the quarterstaff still grasped in her hands. "You can use it, if you wish. Just make sure not to leave any marks on my face — I’m not in the mood to answer any questions on my way to the medbay."

  
Rey felt red hot resentment surge through her, and she lifted up the staff— only to toss it on the floor with a defeated grunt.

  
"Take off your glove and show me your right hand," she demanded, making sure her tone left no room for negotiation.

  
A glint of understanding dawned in Ben’s eyes and he acquiesced, slowly taking off the black garment and extending his bare hand towards Rey. She took it in both of hers — steadfastly ignoring the way the Force seemed to light up at their skin touching irregardless of the circumstances — and lifted it up, examining the fresh gashes on his knuckles that had only recently stopped bleeding.

  
"It wasn’t a person, was it?" she mumbled, lightly ghosting her fingers over the red, inflamed skin around the bruises. He didn’t flinch, keeping his gaze locked on her face.

  
"It was an annoying looking wall," he answered drily. "Did you feel it happen?"

  
"Yes," said Rey. "I think the bond is growing stronger."

  
"I take back what I said, then, maybe you shouldn’t hit me after all—"

  
Rey had to stop herself from rolling her eyes.

  
"Will you quit feeling _sorry_ for yourself, you— absolute laserbrain?" she cried out, pushing his hand away and letting it drop to his side. "_You_ were the one who let this mess happen."

  
"Listen," he said, taking a step closer. It made Rey realize that they hadn’t actually _stood_ next to each other for what felt like days, which had lulled her into forgetting his ability to tower over her. "The way I see it, I could make a stand, destroy everything I’ve worked towards my entire life—"

  
"Oh, stop t—"

"_Or_," he spoke over her, "I can use this as an opportunity to buy me some time. The terraforming alone will take years, and we haven’t even picked out a planet yet. This will keep Hux well occupied and out of my face, and I’ll be free to figure out how to resolve with as little bloodshed as possible. Letting it happen was the only way to prevent chaos."

  
"How _noble_ of you," she spat. "Is this what you tell yourself to sleep at night?"

  
Ben let out a short, mirthless laugh. "Maybe we all have one lie that we so desperately cling to, right, Rey?"

  
She frowned, not having any idea what that last part was supposed to mean, and Ben moved closer still, making her take another step backwards. If his Force signature was anything to go by, his emotions were in as big of a jumble as hers, shifting around with the fury of a tempest.

  
"You don’t have to keep playing the villain just because you think it’s what you deserve," she said. "Maybe you should try forgiving yourself, instead."

  
"I don’t see myself having a lot of options," he scoffed. "I can’t just leave and let Hux take over. Do you have any _idea_ what kind of damage he would do?" He looked her over, dark eyes ablaze with angry defiance. "No, you clearly don’t. I offered you to do this with me, and you refused, so even though it's not what I wanted—"

  
"What do you _want_, then?" Rey whispered. Ben took one more step forward, and Rey tried to retreat, but her back hit the wall.

  
He said nothing and continued staring down at her, so _close_ that Rey could feel the already familiar scent of his skin, scent that now reminded her of all the unexpectedly gentle, stolen moments they'd shared over the past few nights. She froze, suddenly aware that she was trapped between a wall and an unmovable mountain of a man with nowhere to run, when—

  
A scream, followed by the sound of blaster bolts came from somewhere outside. It burst both of them out of their private bubble, and Rey dashed towards the window, frantically pushing past the curtains to look. She saw the tell-tale glimmer of pristine white armor on the large stretch of duracrete between her building and the warehouse, and further on, over one of the hills, a TIE assault shuttle that had definitely not been there mere hours ago.

  
"We’re under attack," she was all she could say. Rey summoned the quarterstaff to her hand, eyes still glued to battle happening below in an effort to discern her allies’ positions amongst all the firing and the smoke, and the chaos.

  
"Tell me where you are, Rey," she heard him urge, but it was too late — she was already running to the door.

  
"_Rey!"_ he yelled out after her desperately, making Rey glance back with her hand on the handle. He stood there with fists clenched at his sides, looking helpless and— very afraid.

  
She merely shook her head and bolted out the room, following the sound of blaster fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Heat™ and the Angst™ have been cranked up. 
> 
> A little bit of a teaser for the next chapter — it will be a big one, lots of plot as well as *ahem* some important _character development_.  
Which is why I’m already expecting the writing process to take longer than average — at least a week, possibly more.  
Meanwhile, I would absolutely love to receive motivation to tackle this beast in the form of comments. <3
> 
> As always, a massive thanks to every single one of you for reading!  
xx


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive thanks to my wonderful beta, [MyJediLife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyJediLife/pseuds/MyJediLife). ❤️

The vast strip of duracrete, stretching from the hangar and its adjoined residential edifice all the way to warehouse A, the very same area Rey had crossed earlier that day was— almost unrecognizable. 

Rey darted to the skirmish as fast as she could, but was forced into an abrupt stop the moment she set foot outside. Smoke the color of pearls shrouded the area, so thick it was as if she had ran out from the building straight into a cloud. The view had an almost ethereal, even beautiful quality to it, if it weren’t for the accompanying screams and flying blaster bolts that pierced the ashy shroud in flashes of crimson and cobalt. Rey blinked and looked around, frantically trying to spot anyone, ally or foe, but to no avail — sounds of battle seemed to be coming from all directions at once with not a soul in sight, so she took a deep breath and dove head first into the fog, quarterstaff drawn and at the ready. 

She sprinted across the stretch of duracrete, aiming for the warehouse that now rose over the blanket of fog like a dune of sand, and trying desperately not to think about where her friends were or what had happened to them, or how the First Order had managed to track them down _ here _ , of all places. Tiny stabs of panic kept tearing at her heart as she raced through pearly smoke — what if all this was _ her _ fault? What if she had unwittingly told Ben too much, what if he had extracted their location while she was asleep, what if—

The sound of a blaster bolt came from her right, now much closer than before, and Rey dove to the ground. The rough landing that sent her sliding across the duracrete set her forearms ablaze, but it was worth it — a second shot that followed instantly missed her by mere inches in a red burst of light swallowed by the curtain of smoke. Rey stayed low on the ground, still and waiting.

Soon after, the bulky silhouette of a stormtrooper began to materialize in front of her, the barrel of a F-11D standard issue blaster rifle jumping around in short, frantic jerks in search for a target. 

Rey gave no time to react and jumped on the target, snarling as the tip of her staff connected with the stormtrooper’s shoulder. The rifle vanished into the smoke, the sound of clattering as it hit the invisible ground - the only hint of its location. Her opponent drew back, but only for a split second — before she knew it, the tip of her staff was grabbed by a strong, white-plated hand, and Rey was forced to heave her body downwards to avoid getting punched in the face. A particularly ferocious yank that followed next made the staff nearly slip out of her hands, but Rey managed to channel the momentum of her downwards trajectory to spin to her side on her heel, breaking free from the grip. The moment of disorientation it gave her was all she needed — she dashed behind the stormtrooper, and landed a hard, devastatingly precise blow to the back of the helmet, aiming in-between the plates of armor at the lower neck area, where she knew the impact would be the biggest. A harsh crack as the strike hit its mark told her all she needed to know.

Rey disappeared into the mist before the body even hit the ground — her friends were still out there, needing help. 

Before she made even a couple of steps, however, the toe of her boot collided with something on the ground — it was the same blaster rifle she had knocked out of the stormtrooper’s hands. Rey tucked it behind her utility belt and dashed forward, closing in on the warehouse entrance where echoing sounds of mayhem had yet to cease.

The warehouse entrance finally swam into view, and Rey darted inside. The visibility immediately improved, the brunt of the smoke not having yet reached the interior, with only some remnants of if it still trailing her in a thick, white shadow. Three figures stood near the opposite entrance, two stormtroopers and a shorter, leaner silhouette of someone clad in black, all three of them firing at will at the Resistance members positioned inside. The shiny obsidian exterior of their assault shuttle glistened in the sunlight behind them, near the hills.

Just to her right, crouching behind a low barricade, hastily thrown together from toppled chairs, was Poe, seemingly unharmed save for a long, narrow scrape glistening on his cheek. He hurriedly waved her over, gesturing to stay down. Rey dove for cover just as two red blaster bolts swished by in the air, just narrowly missing the mark, and he peeked over the upper edge to fire a shot in response. Poe looked her over and glanced over her shoulder to where two more Resistance fighters were hunkered down behind a similar makeshift barrier. 

"What’s going on?" Rey managed to ask, taking out her newly-acquired weapon from her belt as a fresh barrage of missiles zoomed past their heads.

"Beats me," Poe winced, wiping away the blood from his cheek. "I don’t think our visitors expected anyone to be here, they just— _ waltzed _ right into the premises, saw us, lobbed a couple of smoke grenades in panic and scattered."

Just then, a shot fired by one of their allies found its mark, and one of the stormtroopers collapsed to the floor like a puppet with cut strings. The two remaining figures exchanged a glance and— began to retreat.

"Get them, if they get back to the ship and comm for help, it’s all over!" Poe shouted, rushing out of his cover to go on the offensive. 

Rey wanted to follow suit, but her own weapon— slipped from her oddly slick hands and went sliding across the floor. She blinked and summoned it back, just as Poe took out the remaining trooper with one clean shot; the white plastoid armor clanked loudly as it crashed into the duracrete. Now only the black-clad figure remained, full in retreat and firing blindly over their shoulder before vanishing out the other entrance, clearly headed towards the shuttle just further down. 

Just then, approaching sounds of heavy footsteps and blaster fire rose from behind them, the smoke pouring in from the doors lighting up with flashes of red like thunderbolts in a storm cloud. 

Poe swore under his breath and turned to face the incoming threat. "Rey, get that scumbag, we’ll cover you!"

She was already on her way, whizzing past the chairs, the holoprojector, some more chairs and watching the yellow rectangle of light grow larger by the second, but— it simply wasn’t enough. The figure in black had too large of a head start, so she pushed herself harder, and harder still, quickening her pace as she raced through the warehouse until the back of her throat started burning with the taste of metal. Then Rey was out the doors and into the outer perimeter of the complex, keeping her eyes trained on the fleeing attacker.

_ I can do this, _she thought as she dashed over the grounds, dodging the short bursts of incoming fire that kept flying over the figure’s shoulder, her each breath now coming as a sharp pain from her over-exerted lungs.

Rey tried to return the favor, but with no success — her aim had never been the cleanest under the best of circumstances, let alone here, in the middle of a chase, exhausted and with a stubborn shake to her hands that wouldn’t cease. Her own shots kept going wide, and the assailant closed in on the ship at breakneck speed, unencumbered by bulky armor, unlike the rest of the visiting party that was so unceremoniously being left behind. The figure sprinted over a hill and disappeared from sight — the shuttle was waiting just on the other side, with any leeway to fail at stopping the escape rapidly crumbling to dust. Rey, still in pursuit, threw her staff aside, letting it drop to the ground with an enraged grunt — she wouldn’t get close enough for it to be useful, not anymore, and made for a final sprint. 

_ I can do this _ , Rey kept telling herself as she ran up the slope, letting her gaze drop to her feet. A chill ran through her as she realized that this wasn’t just any hill that she was ascending. This one was the red one, the one littered with droplets of flowers, the one where she had learned how to reach out to the stars. The one that was hers.

She reached the top of the hill and halted, the assault shuttle waiting just ahead like a perched bird with its dark, stretched out wings glistening in the sunlight. The figure in black was rapidly closing in on the ramp, ready to board. Rey closed her eyes, feeling out the Force around her, and it— sprang to her, slipping under her skin as if it had been waiting for just this very moment. It made her feel like an electric charge. It made her feel _ strong _.

Rey’s blaster rifle dropped to the ground just as the figure was about ascend the ramp, but she wasn’t worried about catching up, not anymore. The assailant gave her a sloppy glance over the shoulder and fired one last shot. She didn’t think, didn’t have _ time _ to think, and let herself be guided by an instinct that lifted her hand upwards.

The blaster bolt froze mid-air with an angry hum, and Rey blinked in amazement, feeling the Force exerting itself to keep the missile from following through with its trajectory, it bent to her will like soft clay. At that moment, Rey felt like she could crush the ship itself into little pieces if she wanted to, the very blood in her veins buzzing with the Force. But it wasn’t what she had in mind. Rey gave a tentative push back, letting go of the reins, and— watched as the bolt struck the unsuspecting assailant’s back with a sinister sizzle. The figure collapsed onto the ramp. Just like that — it was over, all the danger snuffed out with just a flick of her wrist.

Rey let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, and bent over, placing her palms on her thighs.

_ Thank you _, she nudged at the bond, sending that thought to the recipient waiting on the other side, the one whose energy currently flickered like a nervous star, and though Rey couldn’t tell for sure, she thought she sensed it nudge ever so slightly back.

She opened her eyes and straightened back up, feeling a little better. One of the suns had started to dip under the horizon, stretching out the shadows and turning the world in a field of amber. For now, they were all safe, and it was all that mattered. 

Rey heard footsteps approaching, and turned her head to look. It was Poe, with a group of other Resistance members, with only Leia notably absent, filtering through the warehouse and following not far behind — all somewhat battered, but otherwise fine. 

"Neat little trick you got there," Poe whispered to her, before the Resistance had a chance to catch up. "Learn it from anyone in particular?"

"Is Leia okay?" Rey asked, ignoring his pointed remark. 

Poe paused, meeting her eyes, and his features somewhat softened. For a moment, he looked like he was about to say something, but then changed his mind and answered her question instead. "Yeah, Leia’s fine. She went inside to rest." 

Rey nodded, and went down the hill to examine the body. 

It was a woman, clad in a First Order uniform and not that much older than Rey, her eyes gazing up at the honeyed skies, unseeing. The captain of a squad who met their deaths for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Rey heard more footsteps approaching, and turned around. A small crowd had gathered on top of the hill, silently looking down onto the assault shuttle, the body and— her. She quickly made her way back to the hilltop.

"Did we get them all?" Finn asked, slightly out of breath. 

"I think so," answered Poe, having one more look around as if expecting a fresh batch of stormtroopers to burst out from the ground at any moment. "Whatever it was our friends were looking for here, I don’t think they expected to run into anyone, least of all us." 

"Who _ were _ they?" Rey found herself asking, crossing her arms. 

"Maybe deserters? Or it could have been a random sweep, we know the Outer Rim is currently brimming with the First Order navy," opined a young woman with hair done up in two buns. 

"What about hyperspace tracking?" Rose asked, turning to a person who looked by far the most pristine among the battered bunch. "Deen arrived just yesterday, maybe he had a tail."

"I did _ not _," he spat with way too much self-assurance for someone truly self-assured. And, just to confirm Rey’s suspicions, he went on to deflect. "Rey's the one with access to Kylo Ren. Has he given any indication that we’ve been found?"

She bit her lip and thought back to the look of unadulterated fear on his face. 

"If they had found us, I don’t think they would’ve sent just one small shuttle," Rey replied solemnly. "Their High Command has no idea where we are."

"So now what?" Finn asked. "Is someone going to come looking for these guys? Does this mean we’ll have to leave?"

"I’ll fly the shuttle to the hangar," Poe dodged the question, sounding tired. "For now— get some rest. I’ll talk to Leia and we’ll figure out what to do in the—"

"Rey!" Rose gasped, cutting him off. "Your arms_ … _"

She looked down and did a double take, realizing that, perhaps, going sliding on duracrete had not been the expedient of ideas after all. Her hand wrappings were completely stained with crimson, fresh droplets still dripping to the ground where they blended in perfectly with the flowers. The abrasions were shallow, but expansive, stretching from her wrists to almost to her elbows in an intricate mesh. Rey stretched out her right hand — her fingers felt somewhat clumsy. It was almost odd. With all the adrenaline, she hadn’t as much as noticed, but now that she _ had, _Rey couldn’t stop staring in some sort of a morbid fascination, as if all the warm scraping that covered her arms weren’t a part of her body.

"Stars, Rey, why didn’t you say anything?" Poe rushed behind her to support her back, and she wanted to protest any help, but the world had started swimming around her eyes with renewed vigor. "We need to get you to the sick bay _ now _."

* * *

That morning, spent staring out the sick bay's window, was the first time Rey witnessed a Chrona sunrise. 

It was underwhelming.

The Resistance's medic, a quiet, silver-skinned Echani woman, had attended to her right away, putting Rey into a modified version of the flexpoly bacta suit that spanned her arms and cut off just under her armpits like a pair of long, semi-transparent gloves. It looked ridiculous, and made a grating, crumpling sound every time she moved, but the healing effect was undeniable — the liquid washed over the abrasions, soothing her inflamed skin with a cool caress. The pain wasn’t an issue.

The issue was that even though the next day had technically already begun, Rey still hadn’t had a wink of sleep.

She had expected, perhaps even — as much as she disliked to admit it — _ hoped _ that the connection would open up at some point, but two hours since her admission had already passed and Rey was just as alone as on any of her nights back on Jakku. Maybe it was because she wasn’t in her room, or because she and Ben had already spoken the same evening, but either way, the fact remained. He wasn’t coming. 

_ Besides, where would he sleep, anyway? _ she thought, turning over on her pillow for the fifth time. _ There’s no space here. _

That was when Rey gave up and closed her eyes, feeling around for the thread of their bond. She caught hold of it and reached out, finding him already waiting on the other side — still very anxious, still very much awake. Rey gave the bond a slight tug, just a tiny signal that she was there. 

The tug she received in return was almost immediate, and Rey smiled into her pillow, imagining that it was a tiny _ good night _flying through space like a shooting star. 

The bed felt narrow and cold, the sheets somehow too crisp and sterile, and even the white walls seemed to be mocking her with their indifferent blandness. Everything was _ wrong _. But that one crumb of mutual acknowledgment, measly as though it was, gave her enough comfort to finally drift off after what had been way too many restless hours. 

When Rey woke up, it was already early afternoon, and the medic kindly disconnected her from the flexpoly contraption for long enough to go to the 'fresher and eat some lunch already cooling on the nightstand. Then it was back to the bacta treatment, back to watching the dull, yellow skies, back to counting down the minutes until she would finally be discharged. The day had started with a quiet, underwhelming sunrise, and it seemed to have set the course for the rest of it.

The Echani had returned at around nine, and Rey was sitting on the bed, watching her carefully disconnect the tubing of her semi-transparent bracers from the bacta canisters underneath the bed. Just like that, she was free again, and her forearms, apart from having a sharp, medicinal smell to them, looked as good as new.

"Do you know what happened to the briefing?" Rey inquired as she got up and stretched. Her fingers seemed to have their dexterity back, which was already a promising sign. "I thought we were supposed to have one today."

The medic pressed her lips together, and looked at the ground. "It took place early in the morning. General Organa asked not to wake you up."

Rey’s heart sank, and for a second it felt like she was drowning in ice-cold water. Then — nothing but comforting numbness. 

"Leia was here?" she asked, incredulous. "While I was asleep?"

"Yes," the medic answered softly, lacing her fingers in front of her stomach. "She commended you for being so brave yesterday—"

"But they wanted to discuss what to do with me while I was out, got it."

Rey strode across the room, the sight of the pristine, way too bright walls and the gentle sympathy etched on the other woman’s face suddenly too much to bear. She was about to exit the room, when the medic spoke up from behind her.

"You’re our best chance to turn the tides of this war. They’re just worried, trying to look out for you."

"Great to hear that everyone’s got it all figured out for me," Rey mumbled tiredly as she disappeared through the doors.

* * *

Rey was sitting cross-legged on her bed, with a large stack of muja muffins in front of her. Despite only talking to the medic, Rey felt like she’d had just about enough of the Resistance for the day, and had elected to bring dinner up to her room. Rey had stuffed her pockets with the first thing she saw in the buffet, the muffins. Perhaps not the most nutritional of meals, but it had gotten her out of the mess hall fast, which was all that mattered. 

Ben appeared as she was half-way done with the second one, dark circles under his eyes and hair that perhaps needed a good combing, relief washing over his features. He rushed to the side of the bed and knelt on the ground next to her as she chewed on the food dispassionately. 

"Are you okay?" he urged, far more concerned than he had any right to be. His eyes travelled down, scanning her arms for traces of injuries that weren’t there anymore. "What happened?"

Her mouth was full, so she gave a curt shrug instead. Ben shook his head, the beginning of a frown settling in on his forehead.

"What does that mean? Are you safe?"

Rey stuffed the remaining muffin into her mouth, and reached for another one. 

"Nice of you to worry about the Resistance," she said after taking a big bite, and covering her lower face with her hand. "You’re making progress, Ben."

Now Ben _ was _ frowning, and his nostrils flared. "Are you _ trying _ to annoy me?"

"I’m _ eating _, " she answered, after swallowing the large mouthful.

"And getting crumbs all over the bed," he grumbled. 

Rey refused to take the hint, and finished her second muffin as he looked on in silent judgement. Eventually, Ben relented with a deep sigh, and reached into his pocket. "I brought something for you."

He placed his gloved hand on the bed, with something blue shining in his upturned palm. Rey leaned in closer to examine the object, and blinked. She had seen one before. Owned one exactly like it, in fact.

"A homing beacon," she remarked placidly. "I don’t need a device to call in an airstrike from the First Order. Thank you, though."

His fingers momentarily closed around it, the leather of the glove making a low, squeaking sound, and he shut his eyes to collect himself. When Ben spoke up again, his voice was calm. 

"It would just be me. I’d come for you alone."

Rey stalled, taking her third muffin from the rapidly diminishing pile and taking a large bite. She eyed his hand suspiciously as she chewed, and then looked up at his face. There didn’t seem to be any calculation, nor maliciousness to his dusky eyes.

The muja muffin had disappeared way too fast, and Rey still hadn’t decided what to do. Ben sighed and tried again. "Look, I’m not saying that you ever need to use it, am I? Take the homing beacon. Just in case."

Rey wiped the crumbs off her mouth with the back of her hand and reached out for the next one. 

Ben, momentarily distracted, blinked in amazement. "How many of those do you _ have _there?"

"Enough," she answered with an air of haughtiness. Rey stalled some more, biting her lip, and— held the muffin out to him. 

"Trade you for it?"

His lips twitched, a split second movement that could be mistaken for a muscle spasm if Rey didn’t know better. He had almost smiled. Almost. 

"Deal."

* * *

When the time came to go to sleep, they quickly undressed and sank into each other’s arms without any further pretensions, meeting in the middle of the bed like two magnets being pulled together. 

Rey tried — and failed — to suppress a contented sigh as she hid her face in Ben's chest, breathing him in. Ben replied by trying something new. He reached out behind her and, one after the other, carefully pulled out her hair ties, setting free a chestnut-colored wave that tumbled over her shoulders. His hand remained there, languidly threading through the strands, and Rey— let it happen, because it was thrilling — to be able to touch someone. To be touched in return. 

Even if it was literally by the hands of the enemy, and Rey was doing exactly what the Resistance most feared. 

"I don’t know what to do anymore," Rey murmured, the words spilling out of her before she had a chance to stop them.

"What do you mean?" Ben's fingers halted carding through her hair, the quiet confession having pulled both of them out of a trance and back into the real world. 

"It’s the Resistance. Word got out about my— involvement with you, about the Force bond, everything. The past few days have been difficult, to say the least." Ben’s hand dropped to her shoulder and gave it a small, reassuring squeeze. She swallowed hard, and went on. "Some of them think I’m a spy and distrust me, some plain ignore me, and others want me to win the war for them. It’s like nothing I do is good enough anymore. Like I’m not living up to their expectations of who the last Jedi is supposed to be, whatever that means."

"That’s because it doesn’t mean anything at all," he rumbled. When he spoke up again, it was with a hint of caution. "What did my— General Organa have to say about all of it?"

Rey found herself cracking a smile, a feeble one, sprung through thorns of pain, but there nonetheless. "Leia was the only one who understood what I’d tried to do, and why. She asked me to pass you a message, actually." 

She felt him tense up underneath her, and draped her right arm over his chest. "No, it’s okay. Leia just said she wants you home. That she still believes in you."

"I’m sure she does," he scoffed, not the least bit swayed. Just like his mother had predicted. "Leia is one of the kindest, warmest people I’ve ever known— and also one of the cruelest," he added bitterly. "The perfect set of qualities for a leader. Less so for— anything else. I can’t count the number of times I woke during the night as a child, scared and calling for her, only to be met with silence — we have that in common, you and I. Leia can care for you as an individual, but at the end of the day she will always, _ always _think of the higher cause first. You know that, right?"

Rey _ did _ know that, but said nothing. She thought back to Ben’s memory of him being lost in a crowd among strangers, with Leia— out there somewhere, but just beyond his reach. Now seemingly beyond hers, too.

"So what are you going to do now?" he asked. 

"I don’t know," Rey admitted. "What are _ you _ going to do about Hux and Starkiller Supreme?"

Now it was his turn to sigh. "I don’t know, either."

For a long while, neither of them said a word.

"We have time. We’ll figure it out," Rey found herself whispering. 

When she didn’t get a reply for what felt like a suspicious amount of time, she looked up and found him— already asleep. She had forgotten that, unlike her, Ben hadn’t had much rest, if any. So she left him to it, and settled back down on his chest, observing its rise and fall — firm muscle underneath a smooth layer of mole sifted alabaster, valleys of scars as reminders of past mistakes. Rey’s hand drifted across his stomach aimlessly, her thoughts everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Eventually she landed upon his navel, underneath which lay the dark trail of hair, still an odd fixation point of hers. 

Feeling a glint of reckless adventurousness and— something else making its way through her entire body, she began tracing it with just the tips of her fingers, following it down as slowly as she could, her expedition coming to an abrupt halt when she hit the waistband of his sleeping pants. 

Ben flinched, startling Rey, and her hand instantly shot back up to where it was safe from any danger. She looked up, heart pounding in her chest, but— he was still asleep, his usually bright Force signature dim and cloudy. Rey let out a deep breath and relaxed, trying to ignore the growing slickness between her legs. 

Then she finally shut her eyes, already knowing what she’ll have to do the following morning. She could wait until then. 

She had to.

When Rey woke up, awareness returned to her in waves. First it was the impossible warmth. That felt nice. Then came the sensation of Ben nuzzling her neck, and _ that _ felt nice, too. And then there was the arousal, still present, still distracting. Rey stirred and clenched her thighs to stifle it, but that only seemed to make it worse, sending fresh sparks of excitement through her body. At some point during the night, they had progressed from her lying on his chest to him cradling Rey from behind, with his arm draped over her waist in a hold so sturdy it left no room for negotiations. It was all— too much and too _ little _, Rey's mind a hazy, half-awoken mess as her hand dipped underneath the waistband of her underwear and slid over her slick, awaiting core with the absent-mindedness of a sleepwalker. She let out a shaky sigh and pressed up against him, finding him already hard. Ben grunted into her neck with a shift of his hips, and—

Rey’s eyes shot open, as the realization of what they were doing hit with— less impact than anticipated. She blinked groggily to get the fog of sleep out of her eyes, and saw rays of honeyed light pouring in through the curtain gaps. It was the dead of night, and Ben was still there, and her hand— was still where it shouldn’t be, but since it _ was _, she drew a lazy circle over her eager bundle of nerves. It was just one, but enough to set her body alight with heady need as a low, delighted moan escaped her lips. 

She felt Ben wake - a gentle stirring through the Force — his signature breaking over the horizon like a sun, and maybe that had been the sign that she should stop, but Rey was so _ exhausted _ of resisting, depriving, lacking, that she simply— didn’t. She felt him sharply inhale, and Ben lifted his head to take in the surroundings. Rey had somewhat expected him to move away or show confusion, even contempt, but he— didn’t, so she continued with her ministrations, way too past the point of caring. She felt his eyes on her as she spread her legs further apart for better access, her fingers proceeding with their dance. 

"Can I join?" he rasped next to her ear, and Rey made herself stop and turned over, landing on the mattress at the same eye level as him. Ben was drawing long, deep breaths and his intense, half-lidded gaze immediately shot down to her lips, looking _ hungry. _ Before anything really regrettable had a chance to happen, Rey gave a quick, stiff nod and turned back around to where there would be— less chance for disaster. 

"This— is but an unfortunate side-effect," she grunted, slightly out of breath as her fingers went back to work. "It means nothing."

Rey thought she heard a low chuckle, but it was hard to tell with the sound of fabric shuffling behind her. "If you say so."

She felt him edge his lower body ever so slightly away from her, followed by a soft, obscene little sounds that made her blush crimson and quicken her pace in a fresh pang of arousal. 

She could hear him stroking himself, so close to her that they were almost touching, and then they _ were _, but not there; Ben dipped his head down to the crook of her neck again and plush, impossibly soft lips started grazing along its slope, and Rey had to bite her lip to stop her from crying out, her thighs clenching around her hand with hectic desperation. 

Stars, she wasn’t going to last long, not with her body already so on edge. 

Rey blindly reached out behind them with her left hand, and buried her fingers in his hair, threading it through the curls, because she felt like it was _ allowed _ now, and he seemed to like that, too, if his whine against her jugular was anything to go by. 

Applying just a touch more pressure to her clit, Rey grit her teeth as she ground against her palm, Ben’s lips still laving her neck with attention — not kissing, exactly, because they didn’t do that, but running along it, nuzzling it, his breath fever hot against the oversensitive skin. She continued carding through his hair, haphazardly kneading through the strands, and then ever so slightly _pulling_ — Ben _loved_ that_, _thrusting violently in his hand and bumping his hips against hers. Rey didn’t care anymore, as she was quickly approaching her peak. He seemed to be not too far behind either, his panting running quicker, and maybe Ben _was_ kissing her neck now, but everything was a blurry, heightened mess, so she let it slide because it was just the two of them there, and it was safe, and she was close to coming. 

Their hips kept bumping increasingly more often as their bodies slowly lost composure, so much so that it almost made for a twisted imitation of the— real thing, just like their relationship was a twisted imitation of adversity. 

"I’m close, " Rey heard him hiss through clenched teeth. 

"Me too," she whined, her hips canting, each brush over her clit like a spark of electricity relentlessly charging up to a bolt of lightning. 

Rey slanted her head to grant him more access to her neck, but he— disappeared, and the mattress creaked somewhere behind her. Her eyes shot open from the cool, dead air around her, and she promptly whipped around, terrified that the connection had cut off and she would be alone again.

An audible exhale left her lips — Ben was still there. He had laid down on the mattress, his chest rippling with harsh, ragged breaths as he touched himself with reckless abandon, dark eyes glued to her, whereas hers inescapably shot down to finally see where the much coveted trail lead, to— his cock, flushed dark and rather intimidating in its size. Rey swallowed. If they ever were to—

She banished that thought into the ether the second it appeared. It wasn’t in any way relevant to their situation, and besides, he seemed to be perfectly adept at doing it himself. Ben was— jarringly rough with himself, the harshness with which he squeezed himself, hips thrusting up the palm of his hand, looked like it should hurt, though evidently it didn’t as a string of needy little sounds escaping through his clenched jaw. 

Ben noticed having a closely observing audience and— halted, with some visible effort from his part. 

The hand gripping his cock loosened, and he slid his fingers upwards until his cock was held upwards with just one finger at the swollen tip. He was showing off his length to her, proud, and flushed, and at that moment — the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. 

_ Yours _ , his eyes seemed to say. _ If you wanted it to be. _

Rey made an incoherent, whimpering sound and collapsed next to him, hiding her face in his shoulder. The wordless exchange now over, they both quickly went back to what they were doing as if their very lives depended on it, both equally desperate to unravel. 

She felt him starting to thrust into his palm even harder, his body tensing up underneath her just as her fingers grazed her clit from the right angle, shooting sharp jolts of rising pleasure up her spine. Her back arched, fueled by the way his velvet voice sounded when dissolved into greedy moans, and possibly wetter than she’d ever been before. It was almost like they were doing it _ together, _ and, even though she had no proof, Rey could swear that, at least for that very moment, their bodies were linked up somehow, hearts beating out the same rhythm like synched-up chronos. Then they both cried out, Rey’s nails digging into his shoulder, as with one last thrust and a stroke, they were both hitting their separate peaks at the same time, trembling bodies reaching a furious crescendo.

They were left a panting mass of boneless limbs slowly starting to regain their senses. Rey pried her hand loose from his shoulder and sat up. As she gazed down on Ben, it struck her that no matter what was to happen, she would never be able to unsee it, this very private version of him with his hair mussed to hell and back, chest flushed, stomach glistening with come and looking up at her like _ that _. She sat there, expecting to hear the first tolls of regret or embarrassment beginning to reverberate through her sated body. There was nothing, though, and perhaps that was for the best. 

Ben cleared his throat and extended a hand to summon a box of tissues. He handed a couple to her wordlessly and they both proceeded to clean up in semi-comfortable silence, focusing on their separate tasks with almost too much diligence, but then that was done, too. He tucked himself back into his pants, and with that anticlimactic ending, it was all officially over. 

Not knowing the proper etiquette, Rey was left sitting and pondering her next move. Should she _ say _ something? Should they go back to sleep and pretend like nothing happened? Speaking of, could they— cuddle again, or would that now feel too much like they were—-

Ben had to have seen something on her face, as he promptly sat up himself and, after what looked like a flicker of nervousness, cupped her jaw with his large palm, leaning in closer—

Rey drew back. "Don’t."

His hand shot away from her face as if he'd been burnt.

"Why not?" he frowned. "We’ve already done worse."

"Because," Rey sighed, crossing her arms, now decidedly avoiding looking at him. "We’re not together, Ben, just— stuck together. There’s a difference."

"Stuck together." 

"Yes, if the Force insists on us being roommates, then so be it, we’ll make it work. But we are _ not _together."

Rey waited a while, expecting at least one angry retort of some kind, but time went on and he said— nothing. Even his Force signature was suspiciously tranquil, and she had to do a quick glance in Ben's direction to once again verify whether he was still there at all. And once again, he was, though—

The last thing Rey had expected was him looking slightly _ amused _.

"Rey… " 

"What?"

"Remember our talk about all of us having a lie that helps us sleep at night?" His lips pressed together as if he was holding back a smile. "I think we may have just found yours."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A massive thank you for all the kind words and the wonderful feedback, you guys are great. <3 You have been rewarded with some smut for sticking with me so far. :D
> 
> A brief side note: I'm currently working on a spooky Reylo one-shot for Halloween. It involves our favorite disaster duo getting lost in the woods, an abandoned hut, and a very, uh, peculiar curse. ;) If that sounds like something up your alley, click on my profile and subscribe to not miss it!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I've missed you a lot, and hope you haven't forgotten about me! ❤️ University has been keeping me s w a m p e d, and I haven't had as much time to write. I do apologize for that, dearly. Juggling between academic obligations and creative outlets is something I still need to learn, but I'd like to think that I'm slowly getting better. 
> 
> In other news, I'm uploading this on my birthday as my gift to every single one of you, wonderful readers. <3

The shiny, obsidian polish of the TIE assault shuttle, with its bulky wings fixed at a vertical position more fitting to a posturing bird, made for an odd sight in the hangar. It stuck out like a sore thumb — a lone, pristine First Order prototype ship amongst the dinged remains of the Resistance fleet.

It was still very early — too early to even get breakfast — but the second Rey’s eyes had opened in the morning, she’d hopped out of bed like there was a fire and dashed straight into the 'fresher. her body from head to toe with near fanatical diligence, paranoid that the scent of Ben’s skin, heady and slightly sweet, still lingered on hers, paranoid that someone, somehow would be able to _ tell _ what had occurred during the small hours of last night. And so, as Rey had begun to apply the second round of body wash, she came to the conclusion that today would be a day where she’d have to keep herself as occupied as humanly possible, which, at least for now, meant returning to the hunt for the thermal infuser chip. 

The newly repossessed ship had seemed like the most logical place to start. Though the odds of it carrying outdated tech were slim at best, it was nonetheless a ripe opportunity for some scavenging, a chance to dig through some of the First Order’s belongings. A chance too good to pass.

The sunlit hangar was blessedly vacant of anyone who might sour her morning with uncalled, judgmental stares, and Rey approached the ship with a renewed spring to her step, the thrill of new discoveries, the shining promise of a day spent scavenging making her body feel lighter than it had been in days. That was until Rey climbed the ramp, and realized that she wasn’t the only one onboard. 

The interior of the shuttle was sleek and utterly soulless, just like she had expected. The boarding ramp had opened up to an oval access bay, one almost depressing with its cold austerity, as if the ship had been designed with the sole purpose of discouraging one’s eyes from needless wandering. Rey found herself surrounded by nothing but jet-black wall panelling, periodically broken up by a series of identical, pneumatic doors which, presumably, lead to various amenities. The one connecting the broad corridor to the cockpit was wide open, and it was there that Rey spotted a slender figure hunched over the ship’s dashboard. 

With a heavy sigh, she began to make her way over, and the muted sound of her footsteps traversing the smooth, reflective floors made the person turn their head just as she crossed the threshold. 

"What are you doing here?" Deen asked, rubbing his slightly bloodshot eyes. "Go to sleep, you can peruse all you want in the morning."

Rey crossed her arms, fingers digging into her own flesh. The day might be new, but the battles appeared to always be the same. 

"It _ is _ the morning. You leave."

His tired gaze shot towards a panel just to the left, letting out a low groan upon reading the time from one of the screens. Deen looked uncharacteristically disheveled, even more so than after the fight, his silvery hair sticking out in all sorts of unruly directions, dull green eyes cresting rich purple circles just underneath them. Slowly, Rey approached him, taking note of the slew of datapads and scramble keys scattered all over the cockpit. He’d been there all night, she realized, with a pang of morbid satisfaction. 

"What were you doing?" she asked, carefully stepping over some wiring that connected a small, beeping device on the floor to the dashboard, no doubt one of the many perplexing pieces of slicer tech he’d brought with him. 

Deen didn’t speak immediately. Instead, he took a moment to stretch, only answering after he’d cracked his spine. 

"I have just spent close to thirty hours trying to cut this baby off from all possible comm links with the First Order. Scrambling flight logs, blocking any incoming signals, redirecting future location pings, that sort of thing. The last few hours were rough, I think I have code permanently burned into my retinas now."

Wincing, he rubbed his face again, and even though his exhausted state failed to elicit any sympathy from her side, Rey had to admit — though not out loud — that it was a valiant effort on his part. It wasn't nearly enough to make up for his hostile behavior, or how he’d managed to turn the entire Resistance against her in the span of just one day, but it was a start. Perhaps there was hope even for him. 

"Are you through now?" she inquired. "Is it safe?" 

"I did what I could, the ship is now untraceable," he replied tiredly. "Though that’s not all of what I have in store for her — there’s still a pretty chunk of data sitting cozy behind a brick wall of an encryption. _ That _ will probably take me weeks to crack."

"So we still don’t know anything about what they were doing here," Rey concluded, the urge to end the conversation in order to meticulously search through every nook and corner of the vessel becoming more pressing by the second. 

"No," he grumbled. "Poe did find— something, though. Their officer — or whoever she was — had this with her."

Deen reached out and grabbed a small, rectangular device with a comically long antenna that sat on top of the dashboard, one she had previously written off as another one of his slicer gadgets and not paid much attention to. With a single flick of her wrist, it sprung out of his hold and flew straight into the Rey's outstretched palm. He did not enjoy the gesture whatsoever, if the flash of annoyance as the object slipped through his fingers was anything to go by, but Rey was perfectly content to ignore it now that there were more interesting things to examine.

"I took it apart, put it back together, and I’m still none the wiser as to what it does," he said with a tint of disdain to his voice. "The only thing I know for sure is that it’s not connected to a network, so I have no idea what that antenna is even for."

"I’ve seen something like this before," Rey said, running her fingers over the blue screen which, upon the touch, lit up blue with a long sequence of numbers. "It looks like some kind of a specialized geoscanner. We used similar ones back on Jakku to locate quicksand in the surrounding area. It was a necessity for anyone unfamiliar with the terrain, saved a lot of lives, including mine. The antenna is actually a portable probe — you’re supposed to stick it into the ground to get a reading."

Just to demonstrate, she pressed on the base of the long, copper component, and watched as, with a faint click, it detached itself from the scanner and fell into her waiting palm. Deen muttered something that sounded almost like reluctant acknowledgment and, for a while, silently observed as Rey twisted and turned the scanner over in her hands in a hopeful effort to discern its purpose. This model was not for detecting quicksand — that much was clear, the reading didn’t match anything she had seen. Without knowing more context, though, the significance of the numbers was completely lost to her, and nothing on the device itself gave any hint as to what it was used for. The First Order was trying to locate something specific, but Rey couldn’t imagine what that could be, and asking Ben about it, tempting though it may be to resolve the mystery, was out of the question. 

When Deen spoke up again, his words came out rushed, as if they’d burst out of him after a conscious effort to keep them contained. 

"They’re blaming _ me _ for the attack. They think I was tracked."

"Tragic," Rey said as she shook the device close to her ear, more preoccupied with studying the scanner than listening to him vent. "If you’re about to complain about having become a target for baseless accusations, I don’t want to hear it."

Deen growled something under his breath, before taking a deep breath and continuing.

"Did you know that I grew up in the Hosnian system? On Courtsilius," he said. "My whole family was there — my two sisters, mother and father, everyone I’d ever known. There was hardly anything there — that snow-crusted pile of dirt was the literal backwater of our solar system. It was because of the winters, I think. They lasted for nine months at a time, but were followed by the softest springs. I hated it, of course. It never felt like enough. With each year I spent there, Courtsilius started becoming— smaller to me, too small for this colossal galaxy and my even more colossal ambition. No, I needed to go to _ Coruscant _, because that’s where life happens, you see. I couldn’t have possibly predicted that—"

"Why are you telling me this?" she cut him off, not out of anger but, rather, sheer befuddlement at the sudden outburst. 

His tired, bloodshot gaze trailed over her face carefully, scanning each part of it with the same unwavering meticulousness he probably applied to code. It stopped eventually, with a flicker of something akin to disappointment breaking through the outer layer of exhaustion. Rey saw the exact moment when the paper-thin rapport that had just been woven out of nothing but a shared goal and vain hope once again began to disintegrate, and, just like that, she knew that whatever he had seen on her face had broken their fragile, short-lived truce, possibly forever. 

When he spoke, his voice was as cold as ever. "The First Order can’t be allowed to exist in any shape or form."

"I know that," Rey grumbled. "You don’t have to keep reminding me."

"I think that’s exactly what you need — a good reminder," he said. "If that was at the forefront of your mind every time the two of you— talked, you might have already gathered some intel we could use to take those scum down."

"And I already _ told _you that we don’t discuss our factions."

"Evidently not," he agreed thinly. "Not a lot of talking involved, by the looks of it."

There was something disturbingly _ knowing _in his eyes, something that had broken through even the thick veil of his exhaustion, instantly bringing Rey back to the way he had outed her in front of the entire mess hall just the other day. It positively made her stomach turn, but at least they didn't have an audience this time around. 

"If you have something you want to say then say it," she goaded him on, "or stop wasting my time."

Just to further confirm her suspicions, Deen made the same smug face she had already come to loathe. 

"Let me just give you a small word of advice. That hickey on your neck? You might want to consider covering it up, otherwise people will really start to _ talk _. "

Instantly, her hand shot up in a burst of icy mortification, feeling out the side of her neck Ben had so thoroughly lavished with attention just the other night, and, sure enough, there was a spot just at the base of her neck that seemed to be a lot more sensitive than it had any right to be. Suppressing the urge to mentally cuss out the culprit, Rey instead directed her furious gaze to the smirking figure in front of her. Deen gave her one last amused and revoltingly victorious look and turned around to make his grand exit, but he never managed to. 

The pneumatic doors hissed shut right in front of his face, leaving him trapped inside the cockpit. Deen momentarily froze, and Rey, fists clenched with concentration, watched as he reached for the opening switch, flipping it back and forth, but to no avail. 

Holding the machinery shut with the Force was no challenge at all, especially now, when her signature was practically shifting and churning around her like boiling water, begging her to tap into it, begging her to show Deen exactly how way over his head he was. She hated him, Rey realized. Hated him with a passion the likes of which she’d never felt towards anyone else in her life, not even Ben at his worst, and it was scary how easy it would have been to give in and _ punish _ him right then and there. At that moment, watching him helplessly yank at the switch in quickly ascending panic, the bubbling pull of all the untampered energy was so powerful, so _ bright _ it was spilling over the rim, and when Deen was finally forced to turn around in defeat, his eyes quickly shot to the flurry of levitating equipment all around him.

"If that’s how you want to play — fine," he snapped at her, eyes darting across at all the expensive pieces of tech hung up by the invisible thread of her mercy. "I propose an exchange. You provide us with a steady stream of intel, anything that we can use to whittle away at the First Order, thereby erasing any seeds of doubt as to where your allegiances lie, and nobody will ever find out what the two of you are up to in your spare time. In fact, I’d even encourage you to go at it as much as possible — post-coital bliss is a real thing, makes men _ highly _ mall—"

"I’m going to spell this out for you as simply as I can," Rey cut him off sharply. "You are _ not _ in a position for blackmail, is that clear?"

"What are you going to do — kill me?" He tried his best at sounding dismissive, but, much to her satisfaction, the words came out with an unmistakable tint of fear.

"No," she answered flatly. "Wiping your memory would be more than enough."

Rey took some considerable enjoyment from the way his eyes seemed to positively light up in full-blown worry as he pressed his back against the sealed pneumatic doors. 

"Why all the pushback?" he pressed, defensive until the end. It was almost admirable, the way he so stubbornly tried to weasel himself out of even the most dire of situations. "Rey, think about what you are about to do, and why. Is protecting the First Order _ really _ what you want? Is this the kind of person you want to be?"

Though she couldn’t tell for sure, Rey thought she heard herself make a noise, a high-pitched, desperate kind of wail, almost entirely drowned out by the sound of screens smashing as the equipment all around her rained to the ground, sending bits and pieces of it scattering across the cockpit. Deen winced at the sight, but didn’t say anything, having just enough common sense to recognize that he was on thin ice as it was.

"It’s time to pick a side, Rey," he said, a lot softer than before. "Which one is it going to be?"

  
  
  


* * *

As Rey stormed inside her room that night, she was immediately greeted by Ben, stretched across the bed with a black datapad in his hands. The look he bestowed on her was sunrise soft, but short-lived, for the moment he took in the tempest raging on her face, it immediately dwindled and turned into caution. 

"_ You! _ " she hissed, marching over to the bed. "Literally light-years away and _ still _ you find a way to get me in trouble."

Ben blinked as he edged his body away from her in evident admission of her having the high ground. "What did I do?" 

Rey swiftly removed her gray waistcoat, the one whose popped collar had managed to hide the shameful evidence of last night’s exploits, and, disregarding Ben's growing confusion at her angrily undressing right out the doors, pointed her index finger at the purple bloom on her neck. 

"I’m talking about _ this _ , you dolt. _ Explain yourself _."

Straightening himself up to get a closer look at the scene of the crime, Ben pressed his lips together — a grave error on his part, as it sparked another outburst straight from the very depths of Rey’s enraged soul. 

"Will you display some common decency for once and at least _ pretend _ to look sorry?"

"I _ am _," he pressed, sincerely, though with a barely held-back smile. Ben gestured towards the bed. "Sit down, I’ll heal it up."

Rey thought it over, and swiftly came to the conclusion that there was still a way how to extract something useful from this ordeal. It was an opportunity to take him up on an offer he’d made back in that brief, shining period of time when they were still enemies and everything made sense. 

"No," she said. "I want you to teach me how to do it."

To her surprise, Ben didn’t use the readily available chance to express any scorn about her inability to perform even this relatively menial Jedi trick, nor did he make any pointed remarks about Luke Skywalker’s failures as a mentor. Instead, he merely nodded. "I will."

Just as Rey was about to plop down on the bed next to him, Ben’s hands shot up in the air, signaling for her to halt her movement. 

"Wait, give me a second," he murmured, and reached out towards something invisible, proceeding to quickly gather in his lap a considerable collection of datapads that evidently been strewn across the covers. "Hold this." 

Just like that, a small pile of them was shoved right into Rey’s unsuspecting arms, and Ben poured all his attention into amassing the second batch. Upon the unintended contact, the screen of the topmost device lit up, and Rey caught a glimpse of what looked like charts. Before her gaze got a chance to focus, however, she firmly glued it to the wall, having veered it away from what was probably top-secret intel as if it was something indecent. The intel he had so casually entrusted upon her without as much as a second thought. Her heart clenched, but whether it was from inner turmoil, guilt, or something else, she couldn’t tell. 

And so, Rey concentrated on studying the plain, beige wallpaper as if it had suddenly become the most fascinating object in the room, waiting patiently until Ben finished tidying up the area, until he scooped the stack of datapads out of her hands and placed them on the bed stand. She watched them blink out from her plane of existence, from where they positively did not belong, and felt relieved. 

"Are bacta patches in that short of a supply in the Resistance?" Ben teased, after Rey had finally settled in, cross-legged, on the bed next to him. She shot him a sour look.

The truth was that she’d spent the day combing through the ship, hoping to scrounge up at least some basic medical supplies, but finding absolutely nothing noteworthy save for a couple of half-empty crates of field rations. There were no personal belongings of any kind, no indications hinting towards their mysterious objective. In Rey’s mind, that indicated towards two things — they weren’t defectors, and that the mission was supposed to be very quick and straightforward. But, of course, she couldn’t reveal any of that day’s discoveries, underwhelming as they may have been, to him. 

"I didn’t want to answer any questions from the medic." Rey said, and, technically, it wasn’t a lie. "Some people are suspicious as it is; adding more fuel to the fire didn’t seem like the wisest of ideas."

"Who cares what they think? They will never come even close to understanding what it’s like," he noted softly, edging nearer and cocking his head to examine the bruise once more. All of a sudden, Ben was so close that, once he lifted up his eyes, Rey realized she could take in every slightest imperfection marking his pale skin, down to the faintest shadows of freckles on the bridge of his nose. "But I do."

"Funny, how this works," Rey pointed out. "Understanding each other perfectly in all ways except for those which actually matter."

A barely stifled chuckle escaped through his lips. 

"You'd be surprised. Now—" He raised his voice, just slightly, and Rey shook the stiffness out of her limbs in preparation for the lesson. "Lift your hand up to your neck." 

She did what was told, hovering her palm over the bruise so that the tips of her fingers were barely grazing the delicate skin around it. 

"Like that?" Rey asked, and Ben nodded.

"Just like that," he spurred her on, and extended his own hand, caging her palm with his much larger one, long fingers now resting along the line of her jaw. "It’s easier if you do it with your eyes closed the first time."

Rey eagerly complied, content to seal her eyesight off the slightly compromising position she’d found herself in. It always caught her off guard — how much more intimate this kind of proximity felt when they were fully clothed and not on the verge of falling asleep. But that was a thread of thought for another time. For now, Rey had to concentrate. 

"Start by tapping into the Force," she heard him say, voice low and soothing like fire crackling on a cold night. "Feel how it thrums inside this room, inside of you and inside of me. Open yourself up to it, beyond the confines of your body, even beyond the confines of light and dark, that’s where it exists in its purest form. To me it has always felt like an invisible net that weaves the galaxy together, and both of us happen to be its vessels, only here to give it a voice."

"I’ve always seen it as a current," Rey smiled. "A current in a great river."

"A current it is," he agreed. "All you have to do is let it in, and the Force will do all the work for you. Can you feel how it’s all connected — you, me, and the Force?"

She nodded, already halfway lost into a star-speckled void.

"Now, find your injury — it should feel like a faint corruption in the netting. Like something is clogged there, not letting the Force flow through like it should. Once you do, all you have to do is latch onto it and coax it out. I’ll help."

The truth was that he didn’t even need to — Rey picked up on it immediately by herself, a tiny gust of something cold amidst a vast backdrop of tepid serenity, and he hadn’t even begun lending a hand when the 'corruption' — as Ben so eloquently put it — was almost out. But then he did, and his Force gently, almost shyly, nudged hers. The motion was benevolent, performed with utmost care, but the reaction it caused was— intense. 

Despite her eyes still being closed, the second their energies touched, Rey's vision flashed white with blinding light, not unlike two live wires connecting and erupting into sparks. It felt like a sharp overload of the Force, of him, of _ everything, _and Rey drew a sharp breath, head abuzz with a myriad of images and sounds, all flashing before her too quickly to make anything out. But then, with their combined power merging into one, the mayhem subsided as quickly as it had appeared, and Rey, on the cusp of regaining her senses, realized that this wasn’t the first time she’d experienced this feeling, like her consciousness had— extended, somehow. It had first occurred back in Snoke’s throne room, where, for a few minutes, it had felt like she and Ben could read each other’s every thought, and every move against the horde of faceless, crimson-clad enemy was made with the other in mind. 

The second time had been yesterday. 

And now—

Now it was back, and Rey could feel the very Force around them dance, ablaze with a particular emotion, one that felt foreign, and yet intricately _ not. _One that she immediately recognized as extremely forbidden. And yet, there it was, reverberating across the bond like wildfire, as, once again, they had inadvertently reached a shared limbo. It terrified her, because the uncomfortable reality was that it could be coming from either one of them.

Her hand jumped from her neck, shaking off his in the process, and as Rey's eyes shot open, she found Ben sitting right next to her so close that their knees were touching, his face showing nothing but sheer surprise, an expression that must have been a perfect mirror of hers. 

"That— is not how this usually goes," he admitted, and glanced at her neck. "But it seems to have done the job."

Rey found herself frowning, and her hand absent-mindedly travelled back to her neck to rub at the accursed spot as if expecting to locate it again just by touch alone. "The Force seems to be in a particular mood today."

"When is it not," Ben murmured, and sighed. "Should we talk about what happened yester—"

"Absolutely not," she cut him off firmly, and was treated with an unimpressed look. 

"I am sorry, you know," Ben said, this time sounding completely sincere. "About the trouble it caused you."

Rey gave a curt nod, and said nothing, waiting, as it looked like Ben still had something more to say, but was internally debating whether he should. 

"Am I worth it?" he asked after a brief pause. 

She blinked. "Worth what?"

"The trouble." 

Towards the end of that morning's confrontation, at the crossroads of wiping the encounter from Deen's memory and giving in to the blackmail, Rey had chosen neither. She, instead, had threatened to erase more than just the events of that day from his mind if he as much as breathed a word of what he'd seen to anyone, and the implications of that statement had been enough to make him back off. For now, that was enough, but whether she had made the right choice remained to be seen.

"That’s what I’ve been trying to decide the whole day."

"And what’s the verdict?"

"Inconclusive."  
  
  
  


They didn’t speak much after that, both wordlessly coming to the same conclusion that the day had been going on for long enough already, and that it was high time to put it to a close. Things seemed to have more or less reverted back to normal between them — Ben didn’t press the subject of last night's ventures any further, and Rey was perfectly happy to settle in on his shoulder, her cheek pressed against firm, smooth skin. A strong arm sneaked around her waist, pulling her closer, and it was but another part of their rapidly emerging night-time routine.

Except that, this time around, something felt ever so slightly off. There was a faint tension in the Force, a buzzing anxiety with untraceable origins. Rey searched her own mind to find anything that she might be displeased with at the moment, anything that she might be wanting, or needing, and finding nothing but a languid joy at having survived until what was becoming her favorite part of the day. She was warm, the sheets were soft, his skin softer still — everything seemed to be in order.

Only through that particular train of thought did she realize that the restlessness, growing sharper and more insistent, wasn’t coming from her — it was getting harder and harder to tell. Her fingers stopped their heedless skidding along the planes of his chest, and a faint worry shadowed her sleepy, carefree daze. Not wanting to ask what was wrong, not wanting to _ know _, Rey waited until he would either drift off or resolve whatever was bothering him.

Ben chose the latter.

Sensing movement underneath her, Rey momentarily worried he had decided on flinging her off, perhaps as belated revenge for the rejection. But his intentions were different. He merely repositioned his body, and, before she got a chance to react, his lips were resting against her forehead.

Immediately, a large chunk of the anxiety dissipated, and Rey was left reflecting.

Reflecting on how unfair it was that she had spent years furbishing and decorating the abandoned AT-AT to make it hers, but that it happened to be right here and now that Rey, for the first time, felt like she was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise that this chapter marks the end of the seemingly endless Rey pain train (at least for now 👀) and that things will slowly be moving in a more favorable direction (sort of 👀). 
> 
> As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts! 💖  
xx


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE DEAD SPEAK! 
> 
> Chapter 11 is finally, _finally_ here and I’d like to say a few words first. It’s been a difficult time both for me personally and as a member of this fandom. The movie broke me completely. The onslaught of harassment that followed, championed by a member of the cast, was even worse. I think most of us have aged at least ten years in the past month alone. But I’m trying not to lose hope and channel my frustrations into creating something instead. As Rian so eloquently put it: defy every cynical narrative. And stay off Twitter. ;) I love this fandom way too much to give it up even if it comes with a large helping of pain. Stay strong, my friends. The storm will pass eventually. Fandom drama comes and goes, but Reylo being canon stays forever. 
> 
> On a more positive note, during my hiatus we’ve not only reached 500 kudos but blazed past the number in a spectacular fashion. You guys are the best, and I want to thank each and every one of you for your support. ❤️

With the broken lightsaber pieces scattered in front of her, Rey was sitting on the bed deep in thought. From the modulation circuits to the diatium power cell and kyber crystal, she’d examined each part up close, lifting them to her face in the soft evening light. And now, with the inspection over, she’d finally arrived at a conclusion.

The damage wasn’t nearly as bad as she’d thought. In fact, with a bit of welding, a sprinkling of mesh tape and maybe a new power insulator, the lightsaber would be as good as new. The parts were next to intact — the only thing needed was to put them back together again. 

It filled her with a low thrill — the idea of salvaging something previously thought broken beyond repair. After all, it was what she did best. Fix things. Make them whole. 

It was at that moment when the familiar vacuum began ringing in her ears, and the minute hairs on her arms raised in anticipation. Ben materialised shortly after, cheeks lightly rosy and a few remnant snowflakes glistening in his dark hair like stars against the night sky. Curious about where he’d been, Rey briefly considered asking. She had a feeling he would probably tell her, but the less she knew about his affairs the better.

"Hi," he said after shaking out the snow from his curls like an akk dog. 

"Hello," Rey replied and glanced at the chrono. "You’re early. Is the galaxy not in need of its Supreme Leader tonight? Has order been finally restored, all the dissidents hunted down? I could have sworn I saw a few just earlier today—"

"Did you know," Ben drawled, turning around to hang up his cloak, "that the penalty for insulting the Supreme Leader is up to a five-year incarceration?"

While he wasn’t looking, Rey used the opportunity to quickly gather up the parts and push them into the nightstand drawer where they would only have the deactivated signal beacon for company.

"Only if you can find me," she pointed out, assuming her original position on the bed just a split second before he turned back around.

"Or if I tell on you," Ben said softly, the smile he was so clearly biting back right there in his voice. 

Rey raised her chin. "Go ahead. In my long list of offences which already include the assassination of the previous Supreme Leader and overall dissidence, this will be just the icing on the cake." 

Ben scoffed and sat down next to her, his right hand a hair away from hers on the mattress. Not wanting to give the impression of being intimidated, Rey held her ground and waited for— something to happen. Anything. 

But what followed was only a still silence. And not the good kind. It struck her that neither of them have anything concrete planned for the night, and Rey _ could _ make up an excuse and flee, but, truth be told, _ that _ didn’t seem like an enticing idea either. 

_ Kriff _.

"Sooo—" Rey had opened her mouth without knowing how the sentence would end, but Ben looked at her expectantly, almost hopefully. "Do you have anything to occupy yourself with or is this what you usually do in your chambers?"

"I don’t spend that much time here," he admitted, eyes scanning a room she couldn’t see, and Rey caught herself wondering what the color his walls were. Not that it mattered. And is she had to guess, it would probably be black. "It’s not a good look for the Supreme Leader to hide away in his quarters. I’m not Snoke."

"So why are you here early then?"

Hesitation flickered on his face, but only for a second. 

"Because I wanted to," Ben replied, his gaze jumping to hers, dark and full of intent, and Rey instantly knew that there was trouble on the horizon. But she also couldn't look away. 

"You couldn’t have known I was going to be here," she said quietly. "Or that the connection would kick in."

"And yet here you are. And it did." 

He moved his arm, gently brushing his ring finger and pinky over the back of her hand, the gesture light as air and heavy with implication, and, _ stars _, if it didn’t send her stomach lurching into a violent somersault.

"_ Okay _," Rey panicked and scrambled to her feet. "We should do something." And, to put out the fire before it was even lit, she had to elaborate. "Like a game, I mean."

Ben frowned and sank backwards, supporting himself on his forearms. "A game?" 

"Yes. You know— a way for us to pass the time. That kind of a game."

The look on his face wasn’t brimming with enthusiasm, but he wasn’t openly protesting either. 

"Oh, come on," Rey coaxed, spurred on by his lack of voiced dissent. "It will be fun. We can— get to know each other a little better."

"Don’t you think we know too much about each other already?" He lightly arched an eyebrow. "_ Seen _ too much?"

If bringing _ that _ up was his revenge for her having rejected yet another of his advances, it was just petty enough to work, and Rey was fighting warmth rising to her face.

"We’re playing, and that’s it," she declared, making sure her tone allowed for no further objection. 

"Fine," he reluctantly agreed. "But only it we play for something."

Rey clicked her tongue. The thought of a prize hadn’t even occurred to her. 

When she was but another sun-kissed orphan of Jakku, the sandstorms used to take her by surprise. It was only years later that she learned how to predict weather patterns. Until then, however, she often found herself stranded in Niima, having gone there to run an errand or two and being unable to leave until the weather cleared up. She’d spent entire afternoons and even nights in back alleys with other children like her. The air was rough and made her chest ache, but they’d play games and exchange stories — mostly made up ones as almost none of them knew how to read.

They chattered about all the different planets in the galaxy, some that hid entire underwater civilisations and others that contained nothing but fire and brimstone, and where the air itself was poisonous gas. Rey didn’t believe a word of it but still eagerly listened to every word. The games they used to play were simple— hiding from each other, trying to catch each other, competing who can make sculpture from sand. What remained consistent, however, was that they never played for anything because none of them _ had _ anything to give. 

But he grew up differently, she told herself. He was practically raised as royalty. Funny, how destiny — or whatever this was — worked. How little they had in common and yet it sometimes felt like he was the only one in the entire galaxy who could understand what she was going through.

Only sometimes, though. 

"The Supreme Leader has the entire galaxy and still wants more," Rey murmured, her mind still partly with her childhood friends, wondering whether they’re still there, on the planet of sand, rusted metal and impossible dreams. Perhaps they were still on Jakku. Or maybe they were killed in that First Order ambush. Rey didn’t know which was worse. 

"Ambition is in my blood," Ben stated, yanking Rey out of her musings. "We play for something or not at all."

"Such as?"

He thought it over for a second — the _ nerve _ to ask for a reward before even deciding what he wanted — then, after some deliberation, his eyes lit up. "I want the lightsaber. I can get it fixed."

Something about that statement soured her mood quicker and deeper than anything that had left his mouth during that entire conversation, and Rey found herself crossing her arms.

"I’m perfectly capable of fixing it myself if that’s what you’re implying."

Ben leaned forward. "What I’m implying is that it’s my grandfather’s lightsaber, my family’s legacy, by all rights — mine. Not yours."

"_ I _ think it’s not ambition that’s coursing in your blood, but something far, far more annoying," Rey declared, turning her nose up at him, and Ben almost chuckled. "You don’t even know what game we’re going to play."

"It doesn’t matter, I’ll win," he brushed her off. "So what will it be?" His eyes took on a dangerous glint. "What does Rey of Jakku want?"

She’d expected the question, but still it rang in her ears harsh like a bell as she slowly paced the room. Wanting something, anything, was always out of the question — that was the whole point. The concept itself was strange to her, foreign in its candour. She’d only ever allowed herself to want something in brief, dangerous bursts that always left her feeling singed. Meanwhile, Ben was patiently waiting, watching her with a careful, observant expression that could pass for indifference if she didn’t know better. Having realised that she’d stopped moving and was now simply staring at him instead, Rey whipped around and addressed the window.

"I’ve decided."

"Am I getting the lightsaber or not?" asked Ben, the headache in human form. 

"Certainly not since I’m going to win," Rey said. "But yes, we’ll play for it."

"So what do you want?"

Rey whirled and looked him dead in the eye. 

"If I win, you’ll help me fix the Falcon."

The shocked little intake of breath he produced would be more befitting to a handmaiden in a particularly gaudy court, and Rey took some enjoyment out of having knocked the wind out of his sails. She could almost see the wheels turning in his head, trying to find a way out, until eventually he came to the inevitable conclusion that there was none, and that her request was actually quite modest in comparison to his. Ben set his jaw.

"Fine."

Rey couldn’t stop the corners of her mouth from rising. The evening was shaping out to be quite interesting indeed. 

* * *

"The rules are simple," Rey explained, alternating between speaking and blowing on the hot cup of tea in her hands. "We used to play this back in Niima all the time. It’s called the assumption game. You have to guess something about the other person — which in this case is yours truly — and if your assumption is correct you get a point. That’s it. Oh, and it can’t be anything obvious like 'you know the location of the Resistance base' or 'you’ve seen sand'. Educated guesses only— and no lying."

Ben sunk back against what to her was the footboard of the bed and nodded, eyes somewhat glazed over with preemptive pondering. He raised his own cup of caf to his lips not having said a word, their bond practically abuzz with both ends of it rummaging through every conversation they’ve shared so far. 

Rey remembered there was still one thing left to add. 

"Just to make it clear — we both know exactly what information we’ve dug up from each other’s minds in the past so all of it is off the table." She paused, frowning. This wasn’t a problem she’d had with the Jakku children. "Unless—"

"Unless it’s used to make an educated guess, got it," he surmised, still looking into the distance. "So who starts?"

"You do," Rey said and took a tiny, careful sip of her own scorching beverage. Before their evening activity had begun, Ben had summoned a droid to fetch him caf, offering to get something for her too. The tea she’d requested smelled like honeyed peaches and mint, and the taste was— strong with a pleasantly surprising mix of bitter and sweet. Rey nestled in more comfortably on the bed, feeling a warmth soothe its way through her body. All in all, she was feeling quite cozy. "Ready?"

"Yes," Ben nodded and cleared his throat. "My first guess is that you have a stash of rations hoarded somewhere in your room."

"I—" Rey blinked, taken aback, then cast a quick glance at the closet in case her emergency supplies had somehow spilled out of it and into his side. "How did you know?"

"An educated guess," he cooed, unable to stave the smugness off his voice. "I never imagined I’d acquire my lightsaber back through anything but a duel."

"We’ll see," Rey said and took another nonchalant sip. "You made planetfall today for some kind of a meeting."

Now he definitely _ was _ smirking. "A safe guess, but no. If you must know, I went down to the archives. I had some, uh, research to conduct."

She cursed under her breath, and Ben continued with his turn. "I would assume that you had some sort of a pet on Jakku. Or a droid."

"Do plants count?" 

"Plants?" He frowned. "No, plants don’t count."

"Then no." 

The look he gave her was odd, almost regretfully devoid of the recent mockery. Not having any desire to dwell on it, she pushed on. "You grow out your hair to cover your ears."

It was as if the words were an invisible missile, making him visibly recoil on impact. Ben didn’t say anything, but his uncomfortable expression spoke loudly enough. 

"I’m sorry," she chuckled. "For what it’s worth, I find it endearing."

He shook his head in disbelief— or perhaps in a self-conscious attempt to sway his hair back in place. "You talk to yourself when you’re alone. "

"Where did _ that _ come from?" Rey asked. "And no, I do not."

Ben put his cup of caf away. "I’m trying to understand how nobody is ever entering your room to figure out the source of the voices. Unless it’s something you do regularly."

"Talk with my other Force bond friends?" she quipped. "Yes, I have three more sessions scheduled for after I beat you." He didn’t find that funny, and Rey took a moment to think of her next guess. "Let’s see— most mornings you spend at least ten minutes to blow-dry your hair into the perfect—"

"Will you _quit_ _it_ with the hair?" Ben protested as a reddish tint swiftly crept up his exasperated face. "Don’t be surprised if it’s gone by tomorrow."

It was the emptiest threat she’d heard in her life so Rey had no problem scoffing it off. "But I _ am _ right."

He just glared at her, and she met his gaze with a triumphant smile. Rey now had a one point lead. Only three more till victory. 

After a heavy sigh, Ben somewhat reluctantly continued. "You have no plans for after the war is over."

Now it was Rey’s turn to frown. "Why would I? That could be years down the line, there’s no point in even thinking about it."

Again that _ look _. 

"What is it about the future that scares you?" he asked quietly. "It’s not— death, I know that much. Is disappointment really more frightening to you than dying?"

"You wouldn’t understand," she said, the warm tea in her hands failing to quell a mounting cold in the pit of her stomach. "You, the one who always gets what he wants."

"_ Me _? What did I get, exactly?" He raised his voice, putting down his cup with so much force it was a miracle it didn’t shatter. "A lifetime of voices in my head, a target on my back since before I was even born, and having to watch everything that should be mine passed on to you. If I could have your life—free from the legacy that’s poisoned my every waking moment, I would in a heartbeat. You’re a nobody— you’re free in a way I could never dream to be."

How had they reached this dark place so fast? It didn’t feel like a game anymore, but something far more vicious and— oddly compelling. It was in the air, in the Force — tension that crackled and purred like a hungry fire.

"Better to have a family that tried their best and failed you than one that never tried at all," Rey muttered and downed the last of her tea. "It’s my turn now. You haven't had a friend in years."

Somehow this caused less of a reaction than the hair discourse, and Ben regarded her with such stone-cold stoicism he might as well be wearing the mask. Rey matched his blank gaze with one of her own. He had been the one to start poking at the sensitive topics. She had to poke back. This was how it worked. "I don’t need them," he finally said. "_ You _ don’t like looking at yourself in the mirror."

It was almost as if her mind was being invaded again, except that he was doing it without any help. She hated it— the naked vulnerability, it left her feeling raw. That he somehow was able to articulate vulnerabilities she hadn’t consciously formulated herself. "I don’t need to."

"When I left that— mark on your neck, you didn’t even notice until someone pointed it out," he explained. "That’s how I knew."

"Very observant of you," she said coolly. "You did it on purpose. You want them to turn on me."

"I didn’t and I don’t." His gaze slid down to her neck and back up. "I don’t want you to leave them because of how they feel about you. I want you to leave them because of how you feel about me."

"_ Stop. _"

Her heart pounding wildly, Rey forced herself to breathe. They were still on the opposite sides of the bed, completely motionless as the Force around them churned like an inferno. 

"We’re tied now. My turn," he said, proceeding with no mercy. Leaning ever so slightly forward, he carefully enunciated each following syllable. "When you touch yourself, you think about me."

_ The nerve. _

"This is cruel," Rey choked out, the horror of what she was about to confess a hollow reverberation through her body. "You’re being cruel."

"What is cruel about making you stop lying to yourself? If anything, I’m doing you a favour," he said. "But I do want a verbal confirmation for this one." He must’ve spotted the agony on her face because when he continued, his voice took on a softer tone. "It’s okay to tell me. I do it too. "

Crossing her arms, she stared resolutely at the sheets. 

"Fine— yes. Are you happy? Can we move on now?" With the corner of her eye, she saw him nod, and Rey carried on. Just two more points for her and this would be over. "You still love your mother."

The room was silent for a suspiciously long time. Silent and very, very still. When Rey finally looked up and caught his eyes, the only indication that something was wrong came through a barely perceptible quiver of his chin.

"She is my mother," he said in a plain, nearly solemn voice, "and I don’t think I could ever forgive her. I’m sure she feels the same way about me."

The gap between them suddenly felt very large, and Rey resisted the urge to reach out and touch him. A small comfort for the type of misery only they could inflict upon each other. And only they could remedy. 

"But she _ is _ my mother," he concluded and nodded to himself, staring off into the distance. "Nothing can erase that. So I guess I do."

It had never occurred to her that a declaration of love, of all things, could sound so much like surrender. And with that revelation, the scores were tied, and it was down to their last guess. 

Ben took his time studying her up and down. Whatever retaliation was about to be unleashed, Rey, who herself was in no rush at all, let him ponder, arranging herself amidst the pillows more comfortably. Until finally—

"Someone from the Resistance has kissed you."

The question was far more innocent than she had expected — and said with far more uncertainty — but the unmistakable undercurrent of urgency made it clear that this wasn’t something that had come to him out of the blue. And that there was a very specific someone he was referring to. Not wanting to help him open up _ that _ particular can of worms, Rey merely shook her head. It was almost funny— Ben was now losing, but even his carefully constructed mask of icy indifference couldn’t hide a faint shadow of relief. 

"I suppose it’s down to me now," she said and studied him back with the same level of fastidiousness he had given her. 

All she had to do was make a safe guess. One safe guess. 

Deep in thought, her gaze dropped down to his slightly parted lips. The rest was easy. "You _ have _ kissed before."

A moment of silence. Then—

Ben cursed loudly, and that was how Rey knew she’d won. 

"I _ knew _ it was a mistake," he murmured defeatedly, stretching out the tension from his limbs. "Years have passed and still it finds a way to haunt me."

"I’ll make you a list of parts to bring," Rey crooned and pressed her lips together to stop herself from grinning. It felt nice to win for once, even if the price had been— high. And distressing. And very, very uncomfortable. At least the tension in the air had somewhat cleared up, leaving them in a rush not unlike after pulling the brakes on a hightailing speeder. Rey followed Ben’s example and stretched out her back. "Give me one your datapads, I’ll write it down."

With discontent emanating from him like splashes of hot water in the Force, he jumped out the bed and strode off, rounding the wardrobe. She watched him go, arms bent behind her head in bittersweet satisfaction when something on the ground caught her eye.

It was a piece of red wire, dropped in her rush to hide all evidence of any tinkering. Rey slipped out the bed and cast a glance at Ben who had his back turned, blessedly preoccupied with rummaging through some of his possessions. Having picked the item up, she opened the drawer to put it back. 

The rest of the lightsaber parts were there, still in as big of a jumble as ever, only this time scattered around the deactivated signal beacon. She hadn’t given it much thought before, having shoved it out of sight as soon as soon as Ben had presented it to her. Shoved it away from her sight like she did with every other reminder that something was unravelling inside her, something that she couldn’t quite quell. Now though, looking at it again made her heart swell, and Rey, breath faltering, tried to stamp it down before it took flight, but it was already too late.

There it was again— that forbidden emotion. That fear. All from this stupid little device that might as well be a trap. A trap next to the weapon she had previously written off as too far gone. 

But maybe—

Maybe nothing ever was. 

And she thought back to the day when it was broken— thought about _ how _ it was broken. 

How she’d left him unconscious on the throne room floor— but not before crouching down and checking his pulse, fingers pressed against his neck. How they had lingered there just a second too long before she whisked herself away without looking back. 

_ What do you want, Rey of Jakku? _

That certainly seemed like the big question of these past few weeks. What _ did _ she want?

To end the war, of course. But beyond that—

Rey wanted to have a morning where she’s woken up by the sound of birds singing outside her window. To see the galaxy and not step foot on any Core Worlds for at least a year. To learn how to swim properly. And maybe, just _ maybe _—

She looked at Ben, still facing away and typing something on a datapad. Head feeling blessedly light, she didn’t stop to think. 

Upon hearing footsteps approach, Ben slowly turned around, glancing up from the device in his hands and doing a double take as he saw her face. Something in it made him still, and his gaze darted between her eyes, alert and— knowing. Slowly, he put the datapad down.

Stars, why did he have to be so _ tall _? Would she even be able to reach him without awkwardly pulling him down first? Based on his lack of a reaction, Ben wasn’t about to make any easier on her, either. No, he was still on full alert, still frozen. 

Her breath was now coming in short pants. The duel in the snow had terrified her less. Perhaps it was true that some things were scarier than death. 

This was taking too long, she realised and— went for it. 

Standing up on her tiptoes, Rey closed her eyes, hoped for the best and pressed her lips to his. Immediately, his arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer into an embrace, and with that every coherent thought vanished into the ether and all that existed was his lips, impossibly soft, and her hand cupping the side of his face. Her head was spinning— it was all too much and all too sweet, and Rey kept her mouth pressed up to his with near forceful insistence until she felt him break out in a smile against her, ever so slightly nuzzling into the— could it even be called a kiss? Shouldn’t there be— more to it than smushing your faces together? Cuddling came a lot more naturally to her, that much was clear, and eventually self-consciousness got the better of her. With warmth furiously spreading all the way up to the tips of her ears, Rey let him go and settled her hands on his upper arms instead.

"I—" she tried and burst into a loud spurt of laughter. "_ I don’t know what I’m doing. _"

Then a miracle happened. He laughed too, flashing a row of white teeth and, more importantly, dimples she didn’t even know he had. It was like a dark spell had been lifted, even if it was just for a moment, and Rey could only stare, her own smile waning in disbelief. 

"I liked it," he reassured, eyes bright with the full lustre of a star-marred sky. Rey raised her hand once more to caress his pale, freckled skin, running her thumb over the corner of his mouth as the tips of her fingers gently submerged into soft hair. Because she could now, and it was beautiful.

"Let’s try again," she heard herself say. "We can always try again— you and I."

"Always."

He dipped his head, faltering about halfway through. Rey didn’t recoil, somehow standing firm while her head was lost to a warm haze, and Ben closed the gap. It was— frustrating, how downright right it felt, how the gentle press of his lips knocked the air out of her lungs with sharp blow. This time, she let him guide her through it, carefully mirroring his movement with her own, mirrored his kissed with her own until they settled into a languid pace.

Into a little pocket of infinity. Theirs, now and forever. 

It was when she let him part her lips with his that he turned greedier. Rey felt his hand on the nape of her neck, pressuring her closer, as close as possible and then a little bit more. In a bold fit of courage, she ventured her tongue further, letting its tip brush against his, which— she _ loved. _And he did too, if the way his body going rigid against her was anything to go by. 

Intimacy was still a foreign concept to Rey. Trusting someone else with herself, letting someone else _ in _ clashed with every instinct a harsh life of self-reliance had instilled in her. Even now there was a tiny voice at the back of her head, barely audible over the rush of blood in her ears, kicking and screaming to turn back, to shut the doors, to lock herself away where it’s safe. But it felt _ good _ to be in his arms, to indulge herself in the intoxicating bliss that was his lips. 

The kiss ended so abruptly Rey thought he’d heard her. One moment it was going so well, so dizzyingly, stupidly well, and the next she found herself untangled from his arms. Frowning, she shook her head at him in puzzlement, but he wasn’t looking. Ben's eyes were fixed on something behind her, his body as stiff as ever, so stiff it seemed like he wasn’t even breathing. 

At first she assumed it was something on his side. But then she sensed it too, growing stronger with each passing moment. A strong Force signature fast approaching, one that couldn’t be mistaken for anyone else’s. Ben inched himself backwards, retreating until he hit the wall, face unreadable save for sharp breaths leaving his parted lips.

What followed was a short knock on the door. 

"_ Rey, my dear, are you here? _"

That was when Ben finally met her insistent gaze, a wordless plea burning in his eyes. Rey swallowed thickly.

_ This is for your own good. I’m sorry, _ she thought and craned her neck towards the entrance. 

"Leia," she answered and with the corner of her eye caught Ben flinching beside her. "Come in."


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things before we begin!  
First of all, I’m so humbled by all the incredible support I’ve received in the wake of the last chapter! Hugs and smooches to all of you lovely people, you’re the best of the best. <3 
> 
> I also have to make a very short PSA on how Force bond connections work (at least according to yours truly) since we’re about to have a scene with three people.  
I’m going purely based on what we saw in TLJ.  
Luke actually walked in on their very first connection as well, but he couldn’t see Ben until he caught them fingering in the Hut. Why is that? Well, because it’s made up and in space, for one thing.  
But my headcanon is that physical contact brings them further into each other’s plane of existence to the point where a third party can actually see them. So this is how it’ll work in the following chapter.  
Does that make sense? Well, even if it doesn’t, we’re rolling with it JJ-style.

It all happened too fast—the door swung open, and Leia made her entrance before she had a chance to react. Both Rey and Ben froze, not daring to breathe as the older woman's eyes scanned the room, her penetrating gaze traveling from the bed to the wardrobe, to the desk, to Ben—or was it just the window behind him she saw— and finally settling on Rey. If Leia had indeed spotted her own son, she made no mention of it, but there was a tension to her shoulders, and her lips were pressed together too tightly for someone at ease.

Trying her best not to let any of her inner turmoil reflect on her face, Rey cleared her throat and plastered on a small smile. "Leia. There's something we need to—" 

Leia raised her hand in a gentle request for silence and continued her visual inspection. Rey couldn't quite see—didn't dare to turn her head lest she brought him unwanted attention—but she could feel it through the bond. Tiny, ice cold tremors. As if next to her, Ben was _ trembling _. 

His mother showed no such qualms. If anything, she looked somewhat stunned, slowly approaching the still frozen Rey and reaching out to take her hands into hers. 

"This must be so hard for you," she said, giving her a reassuring squeeze. "You shouldn't have gotten mixed up in all this family drama, I'm sorry. The Force can be— cruel sometimes." 

Rey couldn't formulate a response, heart seemingly pounding in the vicinity of her throat. 

"Did I miss it?" Leia asked, casting one last searching look around the room. "I can still feel him. Clearer than I have in years."

Grazing the inside of her lip with her teeth, Rey stalled. To give Ben time to reveal himself, maybe, or to figure out how to best proceed herself. When a couple of painfully long moments passed and Ben still hadn't as much as moved a muscle, Rey sighed in resignation, letting Leia's hands drop and hugging her own sides instead.

"If it's my help you want, you've got to stop shutting me out."

"No one is shutting you out, dear," Leia said with a slow shake of her head. 

Rey failed to bite back a scoff, a spark of annoyance bubbling its way to the surface. "That's certainly not how it looks from my perspective. Half the Resistance still thinks I'm a spy and won't talk to me. The other is too busy figuring out how to use me to talk to me either."

"Am I to assume you think I belong to the latter?" Leia asked, eyes glinting. "Is that it?"

"You tell me," Rey grumbled, tentatively rubbing her forearm. 

There was no malice in Leia's eyes, only understanding, and that almost made Rey feel worse about acting out. 

"It's true that I've heard some—less than optimal suggestions about what our next step regarding you should be," the older woman admitted. "But do you know why I haven't told you about any of it?"

Rey shook her head, and the corners of Leia's mouth curled as she leaned in, lowering her voice. 

"It's because it doesn't matter what we think," she said. "It is not up to me, or Poe, or anyone else to decide. We could make—suggestions, but we all know you wouldn't listen to them anyway." Rey huffed out a weak laugh. "And, frankly, you'd be right to do so. How you handle that mule-headed son of mine is nobody's business but yours." Somewhere in the corner of her vision, Rey spotted Ben tensing up—if that was even possible, with the agitated state he was already in. "I'll always be here to support you, but this is your fight. Your decision to make. So if you're expecting me to tell you what to do, you're out of luck, I'm afraid."

Rey let out a shaky breath and with it evaporated an invisible weight she'd been carrying. Now that she knew there wasn't some kind of grand conspiracy being conconcted without her presence, she could return the warm smile she was being graced with. 

"You could've told me this earlier," Rey pointed out, and Leia's eyebrow cocked.

"Could I?" she asked. "You're the one who keeps hiding in your room, doing stars know wh—"

It was at that moment when Rey felt Ben's hand gripping hers, and Leia took a dazed step back, eyes momentarily widening in surprise as she, for the first time in years, faced her own son. Rey had never seen her caught so off guard, so _ vulnerable, _ and she was glad she couldn't see Ben's face for he was already brushing past her and positioning himself between the women, hand firmly locked with Rey's—his connecting transmitter between two far-away corners of the galaxy.

"Mule-headed, huh?" he asked weakly.

Leia seemed at a loss for words, opening her mouth, then closing it. Her eyes roamed his face, neck craned upwards as he towered over her. Finally, she gathered herself, her features smoothing out into calm composure with frightening ease. Rey had seen Ben do the same thing all too often. 

"How long has it been?" Leia asked. 

"Almost ten years now."

A flash of hurt in the older woman's eyes broke through the surface of placidity. "And you've sure managed to make a mess of the galaxy in the meantime. I'd be proud—if I weren't horrified." 

"Mom, I—" The grip on her hand increased to the point where Rey had to screw her eyes shut to stop herself from wincing. "I didn't want any of this to happen."

There was a pause, and she heard his mother sigh. 

"I know," Leia said softly. "I know."

When Rey opened her eyes again, Leia was looking at their joint hands as if she'd only just noticed it. 

"Ben, I'm going to tell you the same thing I told Rey. Don't just stand there and silently beg for guidance. You know what you did. What you still insist on doing. If there is a right path for you, look inward and not at me. It will guide you home." Her knowing eyes flicked to Rey again. "Wherever that may be."

When Ben spoke, his voice was so low it was barely audible over the wild beating of Rey's heart. "I'm sorry. About everything."

"I'm sorry too, Ben. I really am."

Rey let go of his hand and—careful not to lose the contact—slid it up the back of his arm, gently nudging him forward. Now purposefully looking away, as what followed felt too private and intimate for her to see, she waited out the long overdue hug. One that would, hopefully, begin to make things right. 

"And for the record, I'm standing by what I said. You are_ offensively _ mule-headed," she heard Leia chide. "Just like your father."

Ben let out a shaky, somewhat muffled laugh, and then it was over. When Rey turned her attention back to the scene, Leia was already on her way to the door. Before exiting, however, she turned back one last time, smiling at the two transfixed figures left behind.

"You two do look nice together," she said. "Ben, might I remind you of the talk we had… About all the dresses I've put away for a future granddaughter—"

Rey felt him go rigid underneath her touch and bit back a snort. _ "Mom _."

"_ Son _," she cooed mischievously and disappeared out the door.

A few long moments passed as both of them stood frozen, staring off into the same direction. Rey's hand grazed his upper arm in short, soothing caresses, but the tension in his body was yet to dissipate. If anything, it seemed to be _ growing _. 

He whirled around then, and she could finally take in his face. Though what she found there was wet eyes and face rippling with—

Anger.

Her hand left him in an instant, and Rey blinked, her brows knitting in confusion.

"What is this?" he all but growled, boring into her with an intensity that left her feeling stripped to the bone. "What are you trying to do here?"

"What in seven bloody stars are you talking about?" 

"You, I'm talking about you," Ben hissed, leaning down and pressing his face nearly up against hers. "Trying to fix me."

She withstood his accusatory gaze, the way the Force around him thrashed like waves in a storm. She could also feel the way his mind brushed up against hers, gently for now, as if he was testing the waters. But the intention was clear as day. In an instant, her mental shields shot up and she pushed him off, the mental battle taking place as physically they were still mere inches apart.

"You were the one who told me I should accept help more often," she reminded him coolly. "Try taking your own advice sometimes."

When he spoke, there was an unmistakable note of hysteria to his voice. "I'm not a pet project for you to tinker with in your free time, Rey."

"No," she agreed. "A pet project wouldn't start imploding on itself at the first sign of improvement."

He raised an eyebrow. "Improvement? I'm not leaving. Ever. I told you that already."

Offensively mule-headed indeed. Rey would've been frustrated—but, frankly, none of this came as a surprise anymore. 

"And I don't know what pipe dream _ you _ were hoping for, but neither am I." Rey crossed her arms. "I guess we're at an impasse then."

"I guess we are."

A drawn-out silence ensued, the unspoken _ now what _ weighing heavily on the room. As if having guessed the direction of her thoughts, Ben's gaze briefly hovered down to her lips, and Rey resisted the urge to laugh. 

"You'll break eventually," he said, voice lower now. "And then you'll come to me."

"You hate it there, you wear your misery like armor," Rey refuted. "So what makes you think you won't—break first?"

Something changed in the way he was looking at her, and it struck her how close they were. She'd never noticed how the hazel in his irises melted into chocolate brown around toward the center. His lips quirked as he moved to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. An innocent gesture, but still it made Rey shiver. 

"Is that a challenge?" he asked.

Rey swallowed, her head suddenly empty of any and all thoughts. Dangerously empty—and blissfully. A part of her wished for the connection to drop right then and there—it had already persisted for so long. Yet another part, however, wished for it to never drop at all, to freeze them both where they were, cut off from the rest of the galaxy and its unending string of headaches. 

"This isn't a game." The words formed without her conscious input, echoing from far away. 

"You're right, it's as real as it gets, and you feel it too," Ben murmured, his gaze having turned all but predatory. Rey had to remind herself to breathe. 

She wanted to say something else, anything, but suddenly his lips were on her neck, and any hopes of talking this out vanished into the ether. Along went all of her trepidation—if there had even been any to begin with—and Rey's eyes drifted shut as she huffed out a blissful breath, tilting her head backwards.

Every press of his soft lips against her skin made her see stars—and brought back vivid memories of a night not too long ago when she'd given in to the same desires, the same weakness. That weakness, as it turned out, had a name, and was currently busy nipping at a spot just below her ear, the one Rey had already patched up earlier. 

"_ Don't, _" she warned, and Ben chuckled against her skin. The gush of air against her damp, over-sensitive flesh made goosebumps erupt all over her arms and shoulders as Ben went on to soothe the spot with his tongue. 

That just made everything worse. 

It felt like she was sinking, slipping and falling until there was no light left, no air, nothing at all except for him. With thrill singing in her veins, she pressed her thighs together, a rush of something deeper catching fire inside her. 

Ben left her neck, towering over her with wild eyes and parted lips, and Rey used the opportunity to loop her hands around his neck and press her forehead against his chest for a quick reprieve. His hands were quick to tease out the tie from her hair, fingers fanning out a chestnut wave over her shoulders. 

If they were indeed making a mistake, they might as well go all out. 

They might as well commit fully. To the mistake. And to each other, while they were at it. 

Eventually, she let him go, pulling off just enough to look into his eyes. Still that predatory look but with an edge of tenderness to it that made her chest feel strangely full. Even the tiny distance between them was suddenly much too large, and using her leverage around his neck, Rey urged him down, greeting him with an urgent kiss.

"Bad idea," she murmured against his lips, hands already blindly fumbling to undo his belt.

"The worst," he agreed, backing her up until she was pressed up against the desk, until _ he _ was pressed up against her. Rey sucked in a sharp breath, brain short-circuiting, as she felt the full extent of his excitement against her stomach. Their kisses turned frantic, increasingly messy, but she didn't care, and as his belt finally dropped to the floor with a soft thud, it took a conscious effort not to maul the rest of his clothes off right then and there.

Ben broke the kiss not long after, panting harshly as he glanced down over her shoulder.

"Do you have a desk there?" he asked, his voice having taken on a breathless, hoarse quality that made a primal part of her shudder. 

Rey could only nod in response. Without any hesitation, he lifted her up like she weighed nothing and placed her down on the polished redwood, allowing them a moment to catch their breath.

She sunk back on her forearms and observed as pulled his tunic over his shoulders which left him in a loose, black undershirt.

"That's—a lot of layers you're wearing," she pointed out, mentally cussing out whoever came up with the First Order dress-code. 

"And I'm well on my way to fix that," he rebuked, and, as if to make a point, removed the shirt too, adding on to the growing pile of black clothing on the floor. 

Like a moth drawn to a flame, Rey bolted back up, her hands smoothing over the vast expanse of pale skin, ecstatic that she could finally touch him freely and without pretense, fingers brushing over his stomach and chest that lightly trembled under her touch.

"Don't be scared," she said and pressed a kiss to where the long, twisted scar—a gift from her—began, then another a little higher up, and then another to his neck. She felt him sigh contently against her as her hands travelled up to tangle in his hair. "I've never done this either."

It was quite a compromising position they were in, and it was hard not to squirm against the part of him that was straining to be let out. But Rey could be patient. She knew it would be worth the wait. Continuing her nibbling at his neck in belated revenge, she felt his arms close around her and pull her flush against him in a tight embrace that seemed almost jarring, its sweetness and longing out of place for the assault they had unleashed on each other mere moments ago. 

"Do you think—" he asked cautiously, affectionately, "maybe if we met in another life..?"

Rey halted her mindless display of affection and pulled away to eye him in confusion. He looked—somber, way too somber for the happy place that they themselves had carved out of nothing but hope and beautiful denial. 

"We don't believe in that on Jakku," she said. "There's only this one. Our goddess, R'iia, was thought to bring harsh storms and great droughts with no promise of a brighter tomorrow. Make every day count, the Teedos used to say. The only thing eternal is the sun and her scorched sands."

"Did you?" Ben inquired. "Make every day count?"

Rey snorted. "Of course not. Most of their beliefs were pure nonsense anyway."

He made a low sound of acknowledgment at the back of his throat, but still that wide-eyed look persisted, much too pained for her comfort. Not being able to stand it any longer, Rey dove in for another kiss. 

It felt different this time. A lot slower, gentler, as if he was trying to communicate something to her, his hand cupping her jaw as if she were made out of porcelain. And though it was pleasant—like warming your hands by a fire—Rey, who did not appreciate this kind of handling under these desperate circumstances, bit his lip, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to send a message. All it did was make him laugh, though that was nice too. 

"You wicked little desert imp," he chuckled and pressed his forehead against hers. "That's not how civilized people behave."

Rey flashed a proud grin and rubbed the tip of her nose against his. 

"Are you going to fuck me or not?" she crooned. "We don't have all day."

That seemed to snap him out of whatever sentimental prison he'd locked himself in.

"I hear you," he said and got to it with renewed urgency. 

Swiftly, she helped him undress her. It was frenzied and only a little awkward, with sloppy kisses weaved in-between the removal of yet another piece of clothing ("Who's wearing a lot of layers now," Ben chided before Rey hurled her balled up tunic in his face). She felt—drunk somehow, deliciously light-headed and near giddy. 

Maybe the circumstances could've been better—the hard surface of the desk wasn't doing any favors for her back—and maybe it wasn't exactly wise to go _ this _ far without ironing out their issues. But she trusted him, wanted him, and for the moment, that was all that mattered. 

Eventually, all that was left of her upper clothing was her chest bindings. Ben pulled away then, his dark, needy eyes drinking in every inch of the skin bared to him, the skin that was lightly trembling in the cool air. 

"Stop looking at me like that," Rey huffed, a wave of self-consciousness making her cross her arms and turn her head away. "You're staring at me like I'm a sand-monkey doing a backflip."

"Rey, I've had feelings for you since pretty much the beginning. If you think seeing your breasts will change that—" He laughed. "You're in for a rude awakening, I'm afraid."

It was the warmth in his voice that made her face him again, curious despite herself. 

"Since when, exactly?" she asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion. 

"Since we fought in the forest."

A whistle escaped her lips. "That's messed up, Ben."

"Is it?"

Just to drive the point home, he pulled her closer by her hips so that the apex of her thighs pressed right up against the bulging seam of his pants. All of a sudden, sitting upright was too much of a chore, and Rey let herself fall backwards until her back hit the cold wood, mind blank but also _ screaming _ that, yes, she needed more of that, more of him, _ now _. 

His lips were on her lower sternum next, right underneath her bindings, leaving a trail of fever hot, open-mouthed kisses down her stomach. A whimper escaped her lips as she carded a hand through his already ruffled hair. Lower and lower he ventured, her body arching underneath his touch, every part of her alert with raw need unlike anything she'd ever felt before. 

It took everything Rey had not to beg, and she had to remind herself that patience was one of her biggest strengths. That the teasing—that had begun to feel more like torture—would be worth it in the end. Finally, he reached the waistband of her pants, nuzzling against the softer flesh of her lower belly— 

And that was just about the limit of her patience. 

She flicked the button open herself with a frustrated huff and shot back up to do the same for him.

"Do I really have to do everything myself here?" she all but growled as Ben chuckled—he was doing a lot of that lately—determined but shaky fingers dipping underneath his own waistband to undo the hidden button. And then the next one too. 

"Maker, do you get angry when you're aroused." Ben remarked as he slid her pants down her legs. When that was done, his eyes froze between her legs, fixed on what was probably an embarrassingly wet patch of thin cotton fabric. 

"No, I get aroused when I'm aroused, and what's not helping is you stretching this out to infinity—" 

"I don't know what kind of sex education they have on Jakku, but it's called foreplay," he said, reaching out behind her to undo the knot holding her bindings together, his voice down to a whisper by her ear. "_And it's_ _clearly_ _working_."

Rey wondered whether kissing would have to be a permanent background activity in the future. That seemed to be the only effective way to silence him. "Less talk, more action, please."

"Your wish is my—"

One moment he was there, warm and real and all-enveloping like a sun, and the next Rey was all alone in her room with nothing but dead silence for company. She scrambled upwards, eyes darting around in panic. 

The realization hit with enough force to knock the air out of her lungs. 

It was over. They'd run out of time. 

Gripping the edge of the desk so hard her knuckles turned white, Rey set her jaw and tried to breathe. What came out sounded more like harsh pants, her chest trembling with barely repressed fury.

_ No, no, no, no, no, no— _

Not here, not _ now _ , when she was half-naked and left wanting _ — _ so _ wanting— _ with no one to help but the void. Rey bolted across the room then, thrusting herself into the bed face-down. Frustrated, she slid her hand down her body, finding herself slick and ready _ — _

But she wasn't in the mood anymore.

It was supposed to be him, she thought and growled in anger, wiping her hand on the blanket with a little too much force than strictly necessary. Leia, as always, had been right. The Force could be cruel sometimes. 

And so Rey would wait. For him and only him, she would. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucky number 13. I wonder if this means someone will get lucky this chapter. Hmm... *pretends to think*
> 
> (As always, I apologize for the delay. I offer this extra long chapter as my apology. And the smut. I offer the smut, too.)

When Rey entered the mess hall the following morning, she was greeted with a sight that left her frozen at the threshold. 

The area was full. Bustling, even. Voices, way too many to count, chatter and laughter melding with the clinking of cutlery in a steady thrum. Giggling children—what were _ they _ doing here—were running circles around the mess tables. The line to the buffet stretched all the way to the doors. 

Everywhere she looked, there was controlled chaos. There was life, finally. 

It was beautiful. 

"Excuse me." An unfamiliar voice snapped her attention back. It belonged to a young woman with a sheepish face. "Do you know where the nearest 'fresher is?" 

"I—" Rey blinked, then frowned in confusion. "Who _ are _ you? Who are all these people?"

"Oh." The girl shifted on her feet uneasily. "We only just arrived. From Naboo." Having noticed the rising confusion on Rey's face, the stranger rushed to continue. "Our people are from Naboo, that is. But there was another ship after ours. I think it came from Gorse? Or was it Gorno…The man sitting next to me was telling us about it. Actually, no, I think it was Gorse. Which one was the planet with crystals? Gorno, right? Ugh, why can't I _ remember _—"

The girl kept talking, but Rey wasn't listening anymore. A chill tugged at her heart. She glanced at the mess hall again, at the bubbling excitement so palpable she could almost taste it in the air. The allies had begun to assemble. Of course they had, that had been the plan all along, after all. 

She simply hadn't expected it to happen this _ fast _. Not after their recent attack, still so fresh in all of their minds. Not a mere fortnight after Crait. Not so soon.

A couple of children barely reaching her waist whizzed by and disappeared through the doors. Their laughter echoed even after they vanished down the hall. It all began to feel like a strange dream, the kind that woke you up in the middle of the night, unsure how to feel. 

Dazedly, Rey gave the girl directions, her eyes already searching the room with renewed purpose. 

She spotted who she was looking for soon enough. Ignoring some grumbling, she elbowed her way over through the crowd. Just a little bit ahead, she saw the signature bird's nest of dark curls, the orange in his clothing shining like a lighthouse among the new arrivals. 

Poe.

When she'd fought her way through, he was busy trying to peek at the food over someone's shoulder, seemingly to no success. Her chuckle got swept away by the noise. Here, inflamed by the nearness of a rich breakfast, the commotion was near overwhelming. 

"Quite the crowd we have here today," she all but yelled in his ear, startling him.

"Rey," he greeted her with a tight nod. "Yeah, it almost feels like back in the good old days! And this is only the first batch. Crazy, how quickly things can turn around, huh?"

The line moved forward, and Rey kept up with Poe. 

"Isn't this a dangerous time for recruiting?" she inquired, trying to keep her tone light. "With everything that happened recently, I thought any arrivals would be put on hold."

"If it's dangerous, then we need all the help we can get, don't we?" 

Whatever it was that Poe saw on her face, it made him let out a deep sigh. 

"Look," he said, lowering his voice. "A ship just came in from Gorse, right? They had to—_ yes, can I get some waffles? Yep, keep stacking 'em, I want a nice, big tower _ —" Rey crossed her arms impatiently as he finished addressing the kitchen worker. "As I was saying, they're here because the FO stripped their forests until the planet started running out of oxygen. My point being that everywhere is dangerous as long as those parasites are still around. We might as well stick together— _ muja sauce would be great. You know what, give me some passion fruit too while you're at it _—" 

If Rey had to choose one good thing about living on Jakku—and there weren't many to begin with—it would have to be the ignorance. It used to be so simple, back when the only thing she had to worry about was her own survival.

"I don't think it's a good idea," Rey said as they made their way to the nearest table. "They brought _ children _ with them. What will they do if something happens to their parents? Who's gonna take care of them? It's all so—irresponsible."

"Oh, _ relax _ , will you? Nothing's gonna happen." He rolled his eyes, plopping down and quickly skewering an entire waffle on a fork. "You're so antsy lately it's making _ me _ feel on edge. Do me a favor and come to the main warehouse tonight. We're having a little _ —event _ in honor of our new friends. Dancing is good for the soul, trust me on this."

That made her crack a small smile. Under any other circumstances she'd say yes. Mingling with newcomers who were yet to label her a traitor, a savior—or anything, really—would be a nice change of pace. But tonight—

Tonight she had some unfinished business to attend to. 

"I've got other plans."

Poe grimaced and stuffed the waffle in his mouth. "Sorry, not gonna accept _ no _ for an answer." He nearly swallowed it whole. "I sent up Leia for you yesterday, now you gotta do something for me."

It had been such a great plan—to force Ben into confronting his past. 

And it had almost worked, too. 

Rey shot him an incredulous look. "I recall you being at the forefront of the Rey-Shouldn't-Be-Trusted camp. We're not anywhere close to even."

Now decidedly avoiding eye contact, Poe stabbed another waffle. "This is me trying to _ help _ you. Besides, that whole debacle was just Deen muddying the waters." 

"No, that was _ you _ jumping to conclusions," she asserted, voice rising.

"I'm not saying I didn't fall for it. That's on me, and I take full responsibility for that," Poe said, sparing a heated glance at something behind Rey. "But you gotta admit, Deen is one _ mean _ pot-stirrer, isn't he?"

Following his gaze, she found the very object of their discussion. Instead of his regular place by Poe's side, Deen had seated himself in the corner of the room. The table he'd occupied was packed with new members seemingly in the midst of an enthused discussion, one that he wasn't joining. Instead, he just sat there, chewing his food with a gloomy look on his pale face. Rey wondered whether word had already spread and he'd become the next target for the Resistance to shun. It certainly looked like it. 

She almost felt bad.

"Don't be so hard on him," Rey heard herself say. "This hasn't been easy on anyone. I'm not saying I forgive him—I really, truly don't—but… He's lost a lot too. We all have."

A look of genuine surprise dawned on Poe's face. He froze, processing something, then gave a sharp nod. 

"Do you want this?" he asked, picking up a passion fruit. 

A peace offering. 

Rey rolled her eyes and flicked her wrist. It flew out of his hand and into hers.

"_ Did you see that? _"

In an instant, a flock of wide-eyed children were clustering her from all sides, and Poe chuckled into his food, offering no help. 

"Uhhh, hi," Rey said, grinning as they pressed up closer. "I'm Rey, nice to meet you all."

"Can you do that again?"

"Are you a real _ Jedi _? Like from the stories?"

"Jedi aren't real, stupid! My nan said so!"

"Can you teach me?"

"Make those plates fly, oh, please, please, _ pleeeeaase _!"

"No, make _ me _ fly!"

She exchanged an amused look with Poe before turning to face the tiny, overly excited crowd. A few of them had faces scrunched up in concentration, their wrists already trying to mimic her gesture. 

"How about this—I can show you how I did it," she said, eyes wide. "But you've got to promise not to tell anyone, okay? We can't let the First Order hear about this or they'll get mad."

They all nodded fervently, huddling closer together. It was the most adorable thing she'd ever seen.

"Now." She put her hands on her hips. "What should I show you first?"

  
  


* * *

The day dragged at an agonizing pace. Time seemed to have stopped, and whenever Rey glanced at the nearest chrono, not only did it make it go slower, somehow, but the knot at the pit of her stomach also wound tighter. 

Rey could ignore it while she played with the children, but their parents finished their meal and called them back all too soon. When she was running laps around the facility, the anxiety grew more pressing, barbing at her insides like a naval mine. Knowing all too well what the cause for all this was, she huffed and wiped the sweat from her flushed forehead, allowing herself only a moment to catch her breath before pushing on to do another lap. 

And then five more for good measure. 

  
  


* * *

It only got worse when the evening came. By the time she was back on the Falcon, tinkering with the dashboard—more to keep her hands busy than anything—the anxiety had spread to her chest. More often than not, she found herself frozen still with a wrench in hand, thoughts inevitably having slipped into the forbidden territory of '_ yes, it is really happening, it already happened, now deal with it _'. 

What was he doing out there—wherever he was? Was he thinking about her too? Was he stuck in a council meeting, too distracted to pay any attention, or would he be able to keep it together, exuding nothing but frigid authority until he was done with his duties for the day? She had no way of knowing. If not for the bond, she wouldn't even know if he died. 

Distantly, it registered to her that the cockpit was flashing red. The emergency signal had gone off, too. Had it been blaring for long? Rey, who was perched on the floor, pressed her forehead against the cool metal panel with a groan. 

What a _ mess _. 

It was useless, she thought as the siren wailed in the background. She would not get anything done today. A distraction was needed. Something to help take her mind off waging a war against a crabby prince she'd almost slept with. 

A distraction like—an _ event _. 

The rest of the hangar, Chewie including, had emptied an hour ago. Maybe attending wasn't such a bad idea after all. 

Just for thirty minutes, she told herself and flicked off the switch. 

Thirty minutes, and she'd allow herself to go up to her room. 

And off she went. It had been raining during the day, bulky, caf-colored clouds still hanging low over the fields. The lingering dampness in the evening air carried a scent of something brisk and alive, a memory of the days when the whole planet flowered and breathed a life of its own. She crossed the stretch of concrete slowly.

The warehouse was packed with Resistance members both old and new. Cheerful jatz music blasted from hidden speakers, barely audible over the sound of everyone mingling, converging, having a good time. It was good, the noise. Just what Rey needed. She situated herself by a long table that stretched along the wall. Unlike the many liquor bottles, the stacks of appetizers it held were being far too neglected for her liking. 

Then something zoomed by her head, which made Rey glance up. 

Someone had tinkered with the old training remotes, repurposing them into flying decorations. Instead of shooting missiles at will, they instead emitted a warm glow, floating lazily over their heads like oversized fireflies. 

Adorable, as far as makeshift embellishment went. 

The event was already in full swing, with the center of the room cleared and turned into a dance floor. She spotted Finn and Rose there, happily preoccupied with being in each other's arms. Chewie was somewhere off to the corner, giving a piggy-back ride to one of the children, with two more dangling from his arms, and Poe had attracted a small audience near the entrance that sporadically burst into laughter at whatever he was telling them. And next to Rey—

"Hey!" she frowned, storming over to the young, red-haired pilot who'd just finished pouring the contents of one of the bottles into his cup. He froze. "You are _ not _ old enough for that, nuh-uh."

Snatching the drink out of his hand, she glared at him and sniffed at it.

"If I'm old enough to fly a TIE fighter, I'm old enough to drink," he protested, staring off grimly into the jovial crowd. 

He did have a point there, but Rey wasn't about to yield. "In a perfect world, you wouldn't be doing _ either _. At least not at this age."

"This is bullshit." 

She shrugged and raised the cup to her lips. "It is what it is."

They stood there for a while, silently observing the festivities as Rey sipped on the drink. Her gaze kept wandering back to Finn and Rose, still in the middle of the dance floor. She hadn't seen much of them lately, and they looked—happy. As carefree as two people could be, all things considered. 

"I'm bored," the pilot announced just as Rey was about to go and mingle with the newcomers. His eyes lit up, and he turned to face her. "Dance with me?"

Downing the last of her drink, she considered the offer. 

"Sure," Rey smiled and put the glass down. "Though I should warn you—I'm not much of an expert."

"Great! Me neither," he chirped before whisking her away.

As it turned out, Rey enjoyed dancing quite a bit.

Even though they were both, in fact, positively terrible at it. Perhaps it was due to the music—instead of something dreary and stiff, what played was one jolly song after another, the spry tempo of the violins giving plenty of opportunity for spinning. And swinging _ almost _ to the beat while trying—and only sometimes succeeding—in not stepping on anyone's toes. And spinning again, which—yes, might not have been the proper way to dance, but it was for sure the most _ fun _. 

When her back collided with a random passerby for the third time, Rey laughed out loud, feeling heat rising up her face. It was getting _ warm _, and her body was working up a sweat, though whether it was from the dancing or the measly amount of alcohol finally having an effect, she wasn't sure. 

It was in the middle of the fourth song when the music cut off. The abrupt silence made everyone's heads, including Rey's, swivel with confusion. 

"Everyone, can I have your attention for just a tiny second?" 

It was Finn, addressing the confused crowd from atop a wooden crate. His hands were behind his back, and he was squirming slightly under the weight of a hundred watchful pairs of eyes, but there was a gleam to his own that seemed to prevail over the awkwardness. 

"This has been a lovely evening. One of the best I've had in a long time. Seriously, with the lights and music and everything—and all of you, of course. None of this would mean anything if we didn't have each other. Which got me thinking. About where I've been, who I am. What I want in the future." His eyes found Rose, who was next to Rey, left by herself on the dance floor. "And then I had an idea. A feeling."

The subject of his burning gaze drew a tiny, sharp breath. And Rey, her eyes widening, realized exactly what was about to happen.

"Rose." He enunciated slowly, savoring the name like it was the first time something so exquisite had left his lips. "For those of you that don't know, our initial meeting was—not your ideal meet-cute. Unless you consider getting tasered a means of showing affection, which—if you do, fair enough, more power to you. And who needs love at first sight, anyway? It's _ boring _ ." He paused until the polite chuckling subsided. "But I fell for you quickly and so fiercely I still can't believe it happened to me. It almost felt inevitable in the best possible way—like destiny bringing us together. Your love is warm and nurturing and _ right _. And you were the one who taught me that love should be the thing that guides us, drives us forward. So that's what I'm doing." He breathed in deeply. "You've probably guessed where this is going, but I have to ask anyway. Will you marry me?"

It was like a ripple effect. The older members turned towards her in an instant, and, gradually, the rest followed their gaze until every pair of eyes had fixed on Rose, their owners waiting with bated breaths in deafening silence. 

Rey, too, felt frozen, her mind still struggling to parcel the quick succession of events. 

"Yes!" Rose broke the silence and laughed, blinking away the tears. "Yes, yes, a thousand times _ yes _, you silly!"

He'd hopped off the box to embrace her then, and the crowd erupted into applause as they rushed into each other's arms. They were only given privacy once their display of affection grew too graphic, at which point both the chatter and the music rose to the previous volume. Rey exchanged a stunned look with the pilot. 

"That's _ crazy _ ," he said to her in a hushed—and very impressed—tone. "Didn't they _ just _ meet?"

The Rey of—last month, really, would have agreed. But since then she'd learned that a lifetime could pass without anything happening. And that a month, in turn, could contain a lifetime's worth of experiences. 

"Not crazy at all," she answered. "They're in love, and the war is about to break out again. This might be their only chance."

Shaking out some unneeded thoughts from her head, Rey glanced at the open doors and patted him on the shoulder. "I need to go. See you around."

She'd almost made it out, had gotten as far as the threshold where a gentle breeze of fresh air kissed her face. But then something small and warm wrapped itself around her leg, and Rey found herself surrounded.

"Jedi Rey!! She's here!"

The children had found her.

"Can you make those flying things fly _ higher _?"

"My dad said real Jedi have laser swords. What color is yours?"

"Can you show us the Force again, _ pleeaaaseee _?"

They were kids, they just wanted to play, Rey told herself as she closed her eyes and counted to five.

"My laser sword is blue. And I guess I can show you some more stuff," she said, lifting the tiniest of her band of admirers up on her arms. "But only for five minutes, and then I _ really _ need to go."

* * *

After all the noise and excitement, the silence in the hallway felt eerie, the night air—too unmoving and cold. Rey paused before turning the handle of her door. 

She could sense the proximity of their connection through a tingling at the nape of her neck, through the way the air itself had stilled like before a storm. She knew it like she knew her own name. 

That Rey would open the door, and he would be there. 

Three possible scenarios were coursing through her mind. 

Ben could be sullen and regretful of what they did. Which was—unlikely, but still a possibility. 

Ben could be seething about how they didn't have time to do _ enough _.

Or maybe, just maybe, last night's events could have rendered him impatient. She'd find him anxiously pacing around the room, only to push her up against the wall the second Rey walked in, needy and flustered. His hands would be on both sides of her face, his mouth parting hers like he was starved for her. And Rey would let him take whatever he wanted, because this was apparently the one and only thing they could agree on. Not that she had thought about the third option much. 

Instead, she snuck in, and Ben was—sound asleep in the bed.

_ Oh. _

Was it really that late? Rey checked on the crono and winced. It was. Then changed into a nightshirt as quickly as her chilled limbs would allow, the beginnings of a grin stirring on her face.

Once that was done, she backed up as far as the cramped space would allow, the muscles in her body tensing up, and _ pounced _. 

The impact of their bodies colliding woke him up with a start, and he made an instinctive move to throw her off, his hands finding purchase on her hips. That was until Ben's sleep-fogged mind cleared up just enough to realize what was going on. Who the laughing figure on top of him was.

"What is wrong with you?" he groaned with a drowsy voice and even drowsier eyes. "You could've gotten hurt."

"I wasn't aware fighting off women from clambering into your bed is a daily thing for you, my apologies," Rey teased as she straddled his lower stomach. 

The only response she got was in the form of an exasperated sigh. Then his gaze wandered downwards, a small frown settling on his forehead. He tugged at the hem of her shirt, a new one she'd swiped from the inventory just earlier that day. "Did you know I hate orange?"

Rey cocked her head. "The Resistance orange or Hux's hair orange?"

"Both," he said emphatically. "Both should disappear."

This close, their bond seemed less like a string and more like a tunnel, his emotions spilling over to her side so freely they might as well have belonged to her in the first place.

There was—pleasure. At her being there with him. At her being where she was, and—yes. Rey shared those feelings too. But then there was also an underlying layer of gloominess, something that was bothering him. And they couldn't have that. So she soothed him in the only way that had worked in the past—by bending down and burying her face in the crook of his neck, her arms looping around his nape.

"Long day?" she asked as his hand had dipped underneath the hem of her shirt, leisurely stroking at her lower back. "Or bad?"

"Again—both," Ben sighed. "The Starkiller project has run into some set-backs. Which suits me just fine, but Hux has grown almost unbearable because of it. My patience is thin enough as it is. If I have to hear another word about an 'inexorable objective against all odds', I don't know what I'll do. The meeting stretched well into the night because he _ refused _ to—"

His body turned rigid the moment Rey's lips touched his neck. She had intended to let him finish venting his heart out, she _ had _ . But his skin was so warm, so _ present _, and there was a birthmark right in front of her nose downright tempting her to kiss it, which was exactly what she did. So did the one just underneath it. And then she couldn't stop. 

Indulging himself in the way Rey was indulging in him, he slanted his head to give her more access, and his hand underneath her shirt halted the mindless caresses and went on to grip her waist instead. Funny, how she'd spent the day worrying about it, about _ this _, but the second she'd opened her door, it had felt like all her trepidation had been left outside where it belonged. 

The unfinished business of last night had left an effect on her body. It felt more volatile, starved for closeness in a way that soon left her grinding against him. The movement had been involuntary at first, some instinct urging her to abandon all modesty and make her intentions very, _ very _ clear. Ben didn't seem to mind, his deep breaths turning somewhat ragged in tandem with Rey's mounting agitation. She'd shifted her hips to truly take advantage of her position, the first sparks of pleasure making her bite ever so lightly into his shoulder—and turning her slick. Fast. 

This would feel so much better if she didn't have underwear on. Really, what had been the point of wearing nightclothes at all, if undressing will—again—take forever_ , _ and she'd— _ again _—be left unsatisfied? 

Rey pulled off of him in an instant, bolting upright, and they shared a moment of merely—gazing at each other, their harsh breaths the only sound in the room. This time, she knew not to hesitate, and her hands made to pull the shirt over her head when strong arms arrested the movement.

"Wait."

It wasn't neither a command nor a plea, which was all the more infuriating, the way he could sound so calm while she was charring with impatience. Surely he could feel how wet Rey was through the thin cotton, _ surely _ he wouldn't stop her if he didn't have a sound reason.

"What?" she asked through gritted teeth.

His reply was hesitant. "It's not a good idea."

"You're _ kidding _ me, right?"

"I'm really not," he said all too seriously. Rey attempted to wiggle out of his hold, but the grip on her was iron, and so was the resolve in his dusky eyes. "I don't want what happened last night to repeat ever again. Rey, I thought I was gonna lose my _ mind. _" Ben glanced off to the side. "It's good that you can't see my quarters," he added with infuriating casualness. "The place is still in shambles."

Rey closed her eyes and counted to five. When she spoke, her voice sounded almost calm. "Ben. I get what you're saying, I really do. But it's not like we have a lot of other options here. So use the opportunity. Be with me."

_ Before either of us are too busy fighting a war, maybe even each other _, she thought to herself bitterly. 

"I _ am _ with you, Rey. The only thing that keeps me going through council sessions with all the endless yapping about the taxation of trade routes is the thought of getting to see you in the evening. You're like my rest after a long day. But—" His teeth grazed the inside of his lip. "I want us to do it right. Slowly. Certainly not under the threat of the connection cutting at any moment."

She stared at him, thoughts nothing but a high-pitched buzz and chest strangely full. It took a moment for her cloudy brain to digest the implication.

"You want us to meet up," she said incredulously. Somehow, along the way, Rey had grown so accustomed to only ever seeing Ben in her room—in her _ bed _—that the mere idea of him appearing anywhere else struck her as bizarre. "As in physically be in the same location."

"We _ will _ meet up," he asserted. "One way or another. It's inevitable, with how things are."

"Meeting on the battlefield isn't a date."

The corners of his mouth twitched. "Then let's meet elsewhere."

"I—" Rey shook her head. "I can't leave. Not right now." She remembered the signal beacon in her drawer. "And you can't come here either, it'd be suicide."

Her reputation was freshly salvaged. Flying off under dubious pretenses would destroy any credence she had all over again. As much as she might have been tempted, it simply wasn't a risk Rey was willing to take. 

Ben shrugged. "The battlefield it is. "

"Stars, you're actually serious," she said, impressed with his stubbornness despite herself. "Not having sex really upset you so much that you—don't want it anymore."

A wry smile was the only warning Rey got before she was rolled over and pressed up against the mattress. She opened her mouth then—to say what, exactly, she didn't know—but was silenced when his mouth found hers, when he descended onto her with his own brand of overwhelming intensity. He was—everywhere, all over her, his hair tickling the sides of her face, his body, muscular and heavy and so _ warm _, covering her entirely. He made her feel, strangely, like a meadow basking under the light of his sun. 

She did the only thing that felt right and locked her legs around his waist, every instinct in her body demanding him closer and deeper. Much to her delight, his own arousal mirrored hers. They were so—_ close, _ the few layers of fabric the only thing keeping them apart, and Rey wasn't thinking—she couldn't think—when she rolled her hips against his, swallowing the tiny grunt that escaped his lips greedily.

Quiet as though the sound may have been, it was enough to break through the silence in the room, enough to remind them of what they were _ almost _ doing. With the spell somewhat broken, the steady flow of kisses slowed down to a lazy trickle as neither of them were willing to part just _ yet _, their lips meeting again and again as if magnetism was at play, and not them. As if they couldn't help but meet each other halfway. 

They did stop eventually, if only to catch their breaths, though still clutching to each other in what almost felt like protest against the fickle whims of the Force. Rey allowed her eyes to remain closed for just a moment longer—it felt good to hole up in the comfortable dark where her entire world consisted of his steady weight on top of her and his hot breath against her cheek.

When she opened them, she was greeted with another one of his starry-eyed looks, the one that filled her with a different kind of warmth altogether. 

"You are giving me very mixed signals here," she said, huffing out a breath. 

"Actually—I was thinking about doing something for you. Think of it as a 'thank you' of sorts," he said, dark eyes searching her face for a reaction she was too dazed to provide. "Will you let me?"

Rey could only nod at first. It took a moment for words to find their way back to her. "Yes. I mean—yes, of course." Then she blinked. "A 'thank you' for what?"

"I told you already," he said. "For being there for me. It's been—nice."

"I guess I should thank you for the same thing then."

Something happened between them at that moment. It was a feeling that passed through the Force, gentle like a summer breeze. After everything they've shared, all the looks, the dreams, the touches, _ this _ felt like the final point of no return. 

"I'm ready if you are," Rey whispered. 

He pressed one last kiss to her lips and pulled off of her, moving to kneel between her spread legs. Despite Rey's heart beating heavily against her ribs, an ample sense of calm blanketed her, and when she noticed Ben glowering at her nightshirt as if it had just insulted him, she pushed it up herself with a playful smile.

"Let's try this again, shall we?" she asked, sitting up slightly and shooting a pointed glance downwards. 

Unlike the last time, Ben didn't hesitate. She held her breath as he reached out and unwrapped the long strip of fabric with one swift move. 

Unlike the last time, the connection held. Her hardened nipples met the cool air, and Rey watched as his fingers skirted across the sensitive skin of her breasts so lightly she could barely feel it, yet somehow enough to make her shiver. 

"So soft," he smiled, more to himself than anything.

What hadn't changed, however, was the way he handled her, touching her with veneration, so overly-careful and gentle. It infuriated her. And made her squirm with impatience. 

"More," she said, _ demanded _. 

Ben complied—though not in the way she expected. He went on to kiss her right breast, circling the skin around the nipple with his mouth. Under the influence of his breath against her touch-starved skin, intoxicating in its own right, Rey's mind was already racing, thinking of all the other ways he could please her just with his lips and tongue alone, how hard we would make her come, how hard she could make _ him _ come—if only they had the _ time _. 

She hissed a curse as his mouth finally closed around the neglected nipple. He licked at it softly at first, and Rey, trapped against the mattress and completely helpless, buried her hand in his silky hair. In case he mistook her actions as encouragement for further torture, however, she felt she had to interject. 

"Regarding the state of sexual education on Jakku—" Her rough voice contrasted with the way her fingers carded affectionately through the dark curls. "There is a—ngh—fine line between teasing and downright torture—"

He _ sucked _ on the nipple as revenge. 

It elicited a whine from her that would've been embarrassing under any other circumstances. But he was spurred on by it, fuelled by it, and his left hand travelled to her other breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers. Then he finally pulled off of her with a filthy stick sound and lightly blew on the aching, over-stimulated flesh.

Rey bit back a growl. She felt—disintegrated somewhat, reduced to a collection of shuddering limbs that all ached for release, her very blood ablaze and singing his name. 

Which was exactly what he wanted, she realized. To be needed.

"You have a birthmark on the underside of your breast there, did you know that?"

"Okay," she panted. "You have a few of those yourself."

Humming lightly in agreement, he brushed the spot with the tips of his fingers. 

"I found it, so I get to claim it," Ben stated quietly. "From now on, it's my territory, which means nobody else is allowed there. Can you promise me that?"

Rey chewed on the inside of her lip. She knew what he was asking. Knew the significance of the question despite its juvenile form. 

"Why?" she asked. 

"You know why."

"What about you?" she refuted, sitting up on her elbows. "Because I'm not just talking about exclusivity here. I know our—current situation is rather unconventional, but when the time comes and we're forced into action, can you promise me that I'll be able to trust you?" 

Now it was his turn to look hesitant. "You're asking for a lot."

"Not really," she said. "All I'm asking is for you to listen when I'll need you to listen. You can do that much, Ben, I know you can."

He perked up at the sound of his name, and Rey could practically see the wheels turning in his head. 

"Yes," he said resignedly a moment later. "I can do that much. And you—"

Rey smiled at him. "I can do that too."

After searching her eyes, a ghost of a smile formed on his own lips.

"Okay," he said. "I'm going to touch you now."

Swallowing thickly, she nodded. "Yes."

By the time he settled on top of Rey, her stomach was fluttering anew. He was so near she could count every freckle on the bridge of his nose, every speck of gold in his eyes. 

He, Ben Solo, was _ hers _ now. 

An overpowering surge of affection hit her, and she let it carry her to his lips, pressing up to his body—or, maybe, pulling it down—with sudden, desperate desire to express what her words could not. 

In the looser pants he wore to sleep, every inch of his own throbbing excitement strained against her stomach, and she ghosted a hand over his length. Ben sucked in a breath as his cock twitched, and he took ahold of her wrist. For a moment there, his grip tightened, and it seemed like he was about to guide her closer, make her palm him harder. But then it passed, and Ben gently pushed it aside. 

He then nipped at her bottom lip as if _ she _ were the one who'd just turned him down, and Rey acquiesced. If this was some noble attempt at chivalry, she supposed she wouldn't stand in his way. Being the sole object of his undivided attention was bliss. It made her feel like she was falling—or flying. 

And Ben seemed content to channel his own neglected arousal by kissing her down into the mattress. It went on for a while, with both of them lost in each other's void, having forgotten about everything and anything else. 

That was until she felt his fingers trail along the waistband of her underwear, coaxing a tiny gasp to escape her mouth, only to dip underneath, and— 

_ Oh _.

It was hard to tell who flinched harder. 

Being touched by someone else was different. His hand was a lot bigger than hers, for one thing, his skin a touch more rough. But it was a good different.

Yes, Rey thought as she willed her muscles to relax, her lungs to breathe. It was a thrill, fresh and foreign and so very _ right _ that when he parted her folds to glide down her length, she made another desperate noise against his mouth.

And he hadn't even begun to touch her properly. No, he was exploring her, mapping out this new territory. His touch was gentle and probing, driven more by curiosity than a need to please, and she let him, because even _ that _ made her feel like she was made out of pulsing electricity. Ben's fingers circled around where she was the slickest, ever so slightly dipping inside. A deep, guttural noise left his throat, and he then ventured further, trailing upwards until he brushed against the spot that made Rey hitch her breath and thrust up against his hand. 

Yes, that, he needed to do that, and it would be perfect. 

But instead of continuing, Ben froze and broke the kiss. She hoped that whatever it was he was going to ask wouldn't require much talking on her part. With his hand being where it was, it took all her conscious effort not to ride it like some kind of mindless animal, let alone _ talk _. 

"Teach me how?"

Rey had never heard him sound so sheepish, almost—embarrassed, his swollen lips pressed together in too tight a line. 

Right. This was a vulnerable moment for both of them and not just her. She'd kiss him, but he had opened his mouth again. 

"I thought I could figure it out," he went on. As if he needed to explain himself in the first place. "But I—I don't know—"

All but attacking his mouth with hers, Rey grabbed two of his fingers and guided him through the small, circular pattern. The one that made her see stars. And he proved to be a rather quick study, though maybe an overly careful one at that, seemingly afraid to overstep the bounds, touch her any harder than necessary. But that was okay, they could experiment later. 

Because it was him touching her. It was all she needed. 

And, as Rey discovered, it was two kinds of pleasure she was deriving. The physical one was like light itself, powerful and pure, somehow making her feel like she could burst into flames and melt at the same time. 

But there was something else too. It was the trust, she realized with the last vestiges of coherent thought. The crushing joy of being able to let go and trust someone else completely. And that— 

That was everything.

It kept getting harder to keep still, which made the kissing sloppy. Rey had never been one to mind a mess, but she also knew that Ben was trying his hardest to focus. So she let him off the hook and buried her face in the crook of his neck instead, where she could close her eyes and knead his shoulders encouragingly. 

The steady flow of pleasure twisted and turned in her stomach as the pressure built up. Her hips canted into his touch, the peak just beyond reach—but there was something missing. She was clenching around nothing, an urgent need to be filled—normally absent when Rey did it herself—rearing its head. She had to act fast. 

“Ben,” she murmured hoarsely against his skin. He went rigid, fingers coming to a frustrating halt. Rey pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "No, you're doing great. Can you—I want—inside."

Visibly relaxing, he smiled against her hair. “Of course.”

It took a bit of rearranging as well as the complete removal of her soaked underwear. Not that Rey cared anymore. It was over and done with in a flash, and he slipped a finger inside her. She gasped, the shock freezing her up entirely. 

"Fuck, sorry, I didn’t mean to—" he rushed to apologize, then let out a breath. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, no," she breathed, shifting her hips to test it out. Another sound escaped her. He reached so _ deep _. "Just need to—adjust. It's a bit much."

Ben gave her a bit of time, using it to reposition his thumb until it was right where she'd showed him. Just the light touch alone sent her inner muscles fluttering, and, yes, _ now _ it felt right (almost, but leave that for another time). Now they could proceed. 

Something else had changed, too, something about _ him _. Rey could sense it in the Force, in the way his hand started moving with a confidence he previously lacked. 

"You're very tight, Rey," he said somewhere by her ear, thrusting his finger into her with enough force to make her jolt.

She didn't know how to respond to that; stars, she probably couldn't have even if she tried. He'd found a rhythm, the most agonizing, amazing rhythm. It made her writhe against his hand, hoping for more. And, oh, did he notice, because that was exactly what she got. 

"If this is what I can do to you with this little," Ben all but growled, "imagine what my cock will feel like."

Now bucking unashamedly, she clenched around him. Every thrust left a debauched, wet sound in its wake. Sensing her impending climax, he kissed her temple and picked up the pace. 

"The way I'm going to _ ruin _ you," Ben said, his voice suddenly the lowest and gruffest and most beautiful thing she’d ever heard. At that moment, Rey could swear she could get off from it alone. "The way you'll take me, slick and ready. You're meant for me, Rey. You're meant for my cock. I can feel it in the Force, how much you crave to be filled by me. How much you want me to fuck into you, inch by inch, until you're coming as I fill you up—" 

She couldn't take it anymore. 

Vision flashing, she hit her peak with an intensity that left her clutching at his shoulders for dear life, thighs closing around his hand. He held her steadily through it, through her desperate cry and the writhing, his weight on top of her the only thing that made sense anymore. 

When awareness returned and Rey could finally open her eyes, Ben was lying next to her with his head propped up on one arm. Studying her. She probably looked like a mess—flushed and out of breath, her shirt crumpled and damp with sweat, and—

"Beautiful," he said, smugness and something else, something far warmer emanating off him in waves. 

How do you even respond to that? She didn't. Instead, Rey let herself be nudged onto her side as he settled behind her and pulled up the covers.

In the golden thrum of the afterglow, everything felt warm. Soft. Everything, except for— 

"Are you sure you don't want me to help?" she asked, wriggling against the part of him that still begged for attention against her lower back.

Hissing a curse, Ben edged his lower body away from her. Rey tried to retaliate, but he put his arms around her, keeping hers pinned to her sides until she stopped trashing. 

"No time. It'll go away if you would—stop—moving—"

Rey chuckled, and he relaxed his hold. And since his arm was right there, she used his bicep as a pillow. It wasn't as soft as what she was used to, but it felt fitting. For tonight, at least. 

"A rain check, then."

"Definitely."

She wasn't sure how much time had passed. Whether Rey had managed to fall asleep or was merely swimming in a dreamlike haze. Whether he was still awake.

What she did know was that the sky outside her window had turned amber and that his arm was still locked around her waist. The words formed without her conscious input.

"Our allies are gathering quickly. The war—it will break out sooner than we—than _ I _expected."

There was silence. Perhaps he was asleep after all. And maybe that was for the best— Rey wasn't sure if that was classified information she'd just shared. Scratch that, it probably was. Though, surely, nothing that the First Order wasn't preparing for at this very moment. 

"Well—" Ben yawned. "Good luck to you all, I suppose. At least we'll be meeting up soon."

"Don't joke about that." The words came out a bit harsher than she'd intended, and Rey felt him tense up behind her. She drew a breath and tried again. "People will die, Ben. It's no laughing matter."

Some minutes passed, and Rey, her lids now heavy as stone, accepted that he had nothing more to add. And maybe that was true. There _ was _ nothing more to add. The war was an inevitability. 

"Ben?"

"Hmm?"

"Despite everything—I'm glad we met."

He pressed a lazy kiss against her hair.

"Me too, Rey," Ben said. "Me too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now pronounce them in love. 
> 
> <3


	14. Chapter 14

That night, she had a dream.

It started out innocently enough. There was heat—rippling and sweltering. The soft sinking of sand beneath her boots. Air that tasted like sunlight. A climate as harsh as it was soft, like her. All safe and familiar. 

But the desert itself was not. 

The landscape that spread before her was flat. No rolling dunes of gold, no carcasses of the Imperial fleet looming on the horizon. The only thing in front of her was the two setting suns, large and imposing over the quiet desert. 

The Force felt oddly restless, nipping away at her from the inside. Rey looked around then, finding a pourstone hut to her left, the yellow tint of its dome a little faded, a little grimy. Whatever this place was, it felt important—and abandoned. A strange dwelling in an even stranger land. 

It carried with it a strange aura of discomfort. As if whoever had lived there before had wanted nothing more than to leave. Rey started to grow anxious. She didn't much care for revisiting someone's bad memories, decayed and half-buried in sand. 

More out of habit than anything, she tugged at the bond. Just a light check-in, a light comfort in the midst of all this vast isolation. 

It was like being pulled into icy sludge chest-first. 

_ Wrong _ , her mind screamed. _ Wrong and empty and cold. _

The sludge enveloped her, filling her lungs with a pitch-black vacuum that threatened to swallow her whole. Her vision blurred, and, knees buckling, Rey choked back the bile that rose in her throat. She needed to get out of this place, but the desert, vast and endless and beautiful, now seemed like more a prison. Or a personal hell. She knew there was nothing out there, over the horizon and beyond. 

_ Alone _ , sang the wind. _ Alone, alone, alone. _

That was when Rey noticed that she wasn't.

Two semi-transparent figures were watching her from a distance. They stood side by side, a placid smile on both of their lips. She recognized them immediately. Anger flashing, Rey straightened up and pushed aside a loose strand of hair from her face. Why weren't they helping her? Couldn't they see—feel—how much it hurt?

"What is this place?" Rey called out as she closed the distance between them. "Why am I here?"

Leia's smile took on a wistful edge. "This, my dear, is the past."

Frowning, Rey glanced back at the decrepit dome. Her hand brushed against something clipped to her belt, and she lifted the object up to her face. It was a lightsaber, a new one she hadn't seen before. Well, not _ entirely _ new—some components she recognized as previously belonging to her quarterstaff. 

"This—doesn't feel like the past at all," she said, turning the weapon over in her hands. "You're not dead, for one thing."

"Not dead _ yet _, you mean," the older woman laughed, cutting herself off when she saw Rey scowl. "It's okay. We all knew it was bound to happen eventually."

"My question still stands. What am I doing here?"

Now it was Luke's turn to speak. "This place is exactly what it looks like—old rubble. Memories are the only thing of value it carries. In a few years, this will all be buried underneath a thick layer of sand. And that's how it should remain." Still confused, Rey shook her head, and the corner of his mouth quirked up. "Home, Rey. This used to be my home."

Finally, at least one thing they had in common—the humblest of beginnings. She wondered if knowing this information would've made their time together pass by smoother, their communication easier. Not that it mattered anymore. 

"You also came from the desert," Rey said quietly. 

"Came, went—and never looked back. This homestead should be of no interest to anyone now."

"I think Ben would've liked to visit," Leia mused. "He always did have something of a nostalgic streak to him."

Luke scoffed at that. "He would've liked to burn it down, maybe."

"Ben's gone."

Rey didn't know where the words came from. But the second they left her mouth, she knew it was true. 

Leia looked almost surprised, though not nearly as much as she should be. "Is he? It's hard to tell things apart here. Everything is so—blurred."

The heat on her skin was beginning to feel more like a fever. Rey shivered. "So is this the past or the future? I still don't understand."

"Both. Neither. Have you noticed the pattern yet? Admittedly, it _ is _ easier to spot from a bird's-eye view," Luke said, gesturing at the endless expanse of desert. "We retreat back to what's familiar when we're afraid. That's how the past gets repeated over and over again. With every generation, it's always been the same—the same desires, the same mistakes. The cycle doesn't end even when we're actively trying to break it." He then glanced at Leia who averted her eyes. "We, the Skywalkers, are all guilty of falling into the same traps. You could say it's a curse that runs in the family. And this is the ending result. Death and decay."

Rey set her jaw. What was it with the Jedi and speaking in riddles? 

"If you're trying to warn me, you're doing a terrible job." The anger rose like wildfire, and she whirled around, kicking up sand. "What part of '_ it will all result in failure _ ' is supposed to be encouraging? Gee, _ thanks _."

Laughter rose from behind her, oddly out of place for a setting as forlorn as this one. 

"Never you mind him, the years spent alone on that mossy rock haven't been kind on his communication skills," Leia said warmly. "What my brother is trying to say is that you shouldn't turn to the past for guidance, that's all. If you want to break the cycle, it's time to try something new."

Rey crossed her arms and sighed. The suns had nearly dipped under the horizon, leaving behind a purple-tinted sky sprinkled with the first evening stars. 

"This place feels empty. Beautiful and empty," she said. "The _ galaxy _ feels empty. Who even am I in this future?"

"You are all the Jedi," answered Luke. "You alone carry their legacy."

Now it was her turn to laugh. 

"Beautiful title," Rey said. "Beautiful and empty."

The last light softly faded, and so did the dream. 

* * *

She woke up in cold sweat, hands reaching for his comforting warmth before her eyes were even open. But her fingers fumbled through layers of crumpled fabric, finding nothing. 

With a sigh, Rey hid her face in a pillow. She wasn't a child, she won't get upset over a kriffing dream, she _ won't _. But it had felt so real. Even now, the smell of sand in the cooling twilight still lingered in her nostrils. So real, down to the— 

She tugged, no, _ wrenched _at the bond. 

It was fine, she thought as her shoulders relaxed. He was still out there somewhere. 

The connection had broken only recently—the spot next to her was still warm to touch, and that was where Rey cocooned herself in the blankets. She fell asleep not long after, still holding onto the thread that tied them like a lifeline.

* * *

She spent the day on the top of her hill. There, among the flowers, she finally started on repairing the lightsaber. It was a slow process, one that required meticulous precision and mental focus. But she felt ready to do it now. And, somehow, it felt like the right time, too. 

They were sprawled over a large blanket—Rey, an assortment of precision tools, and two of the newly arrived children. Her companions were mostly silent, watching as she screwed, cut and taped, sometimes fetching for her a tool or two from the inventory room. Rey didn't mind the company. The conversation that intermittently bubbled up was light, mostly questions about who she was, where she was from, what her favorite food was. The kind of questions she could answer without tearing her eyes off from her work.

It was around afternoon when a distant rumbling made the trio perk their heads up. The sound came from the hangar, growing ever louder until a ship emerged from the open doors. They watched in silence as it rose up in the air, eventually breaking the surface of the yellow haze that was the Chrona sky and disappearing from sight. 

"That was the ship we came here with," pointed out the tallest of her little companions, a dark-haired girl no older than thirteen.

Rey hummed. "Went to fetch more people, if I were to guess."

The girl nodded and lay back down on the blanket to gaze at the sky, but the boy next to her gasped.

"No! I left my backpack there! It had my clothes and datapad and my—my _ journal _. What if someone reads it?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "Nobody cares about your stupid journal, Ike. Nobody. There's nothing of substance in it anyway—"

"Hey! I'm so going to tell mom!"

Rey chuckled. "It's not like the ship's _ never _ coming back. It should return in about a week, don't worry. I'm sure you can scrounge up some clothes from the inventory in the meantime."

The boy made a displeased noise but didn't say anything more.

Not even an hour had passed when the second ship took off in the air. Clearly, there were still plenty of people willing to fight. More would arrive, followed by the warships, TIE fighters and weapons the Resistance had surely put in an order for by now, and then—

She went back to her work.

* * *

"I have something for you."

Ben was standing by the bed, hands behind his back. 

She knew that the last night's bad dream was just that—a bad dream. But the relief of seeing him alive and perfectly well—and _ content _, by the dark gleam of his eyes—was too powerful to ignore, so Rey smiled up at him. He smiled back down at her. 

"I think you've got the wrong idea about what kind of guessing games I like," she said, trying unsuccessfully to peer behind him. "This—is not it, Ben."

Scoffing, he outstretched his gloved hand. Rey snatched the object for herself right away. It was small, rectangular, one side embedded with internal circuitry. 

"It's—" She closed her fingers around it, a happy sound escaping her throat. "The thermal infuser chip. But—how did you know?"

He did owe her some Falcon replacement parts, as per their agreement. But with everything that occurred after the game, the intense whirlwind of it all, she'd forgotten to make the list. 

"You did mention it before," he reminded her quietly, shifting on his feet. 

That's right, she had. On their very first night together, when she'd started babbling about fixing the Falcon to break the ice. About a week prior. A lifetime ago. 

"Where did you even find this?" Rey asked, turning it over in her hands. The chip was in pristine condition, a real rarity for an object that had to be at least a decade old. 

"I didn't. This was a special assignment for some of my underlings. They are—" His lip quirked. "Highly motivated to comply, if you can imagine." 

Rey conjured up an image of some poor, stressed out generals frantically embarking on a galaxy-wide scavenger hunt over an antique. She bit back a laugh. "Figures."

"You'll need more, right?" he asked. "The hyperdrive initiation lever was nearly breaking off even back in my day, and the connective wiring was all loose. I somehow doubt anyone's replaced it since—"

She patted the spot on the bed next to her. "Sit down, will you? I don't like you towering over me like I'm in a sickbed."

An odd look crossed his face as he hesitated, just slightly. She knew all too well they were both thinking about the same thing. That being this near made it hard to think about anything else. 

"Please?" she asked, scooching back towards the wall. 

He removed his boots—and took his time doing it. The cape followed. Instead of hanging it up like he usually did, Rey watched as he shrugged it off his shoulders, the thick piece of fabric dropping to the ground. He stared at it for a moment, though without really seeing it, and when he finally made eye contact, Rey suppressed a shiver.

"We never did figure it out," he said, settling in next to her cross-legged. "What the Force wanted from us." 

It took a conscious effort to tear her gaze away from his plush mouth. "You're talking as if it's over when it most certainly isn't."

He shrugged. "Call it a hunch."

Rey felt her heartbeat speed up. "Did you also have a weird dream?"

"What? No." His brow creased. "But I suppose you did. What did you see?"

They were sitting side by side, legs touching. At that very moment, she could reach out. To caress him. Kiss him. Pull him closer. The awareness that he would let her, that he was there for her, was perhaps as gratifying as the actions themselves. The idea that, despite whatever challenges were thrown at them, neither was alone.

For now, at least. The path to a future where maybe, just maybe, both of them could figure something out was laid with uncertainty. But Rey knew what she _ didn't _ want along with what she wanted, now. And a destiny where all that remained of him was a bleeding, aching bond was at the very top of the list. For his sake—and hers, too. 

"Nothing," she muttered. "It was nothing."

He knew Rey was lying, of course. She could tell. But he didn't press the subject further. Instead, he glanced down at his lap with a flutter of long, dark lashes. 

"Come here."

She did. 

Slowly, Rey straddled his lap. Everything about him felt warm, from the permanent body heat to his careful, searching gaze. She reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair from his eye, and Ben leaned into the touch, eyes falling shut as he nuzzled against her palm. A tiny, happy sigh escaped his lips, so fleeting it registered only as a puff of air against her wrist. But she _ did _ notice. How could she not, when they were this close, physically and otherwise. She knew that her presence calmed him down, steadied him. She knew he was, yet again, in one of those strange and solemn moods. She knew _ him _.

This time, the kiss was slow. Gentle, so gentle their lips barely brushed before they pulled ever so slightly away, breathing each other in. Her mind became a haze, soaring up like the ships earlier today until Rey reached a new, darkened headspace where she floated with the stars. And yet they found each other there, too, mouths meeting and parting and meeting again. There was none of the usual urgency that came with what they were doing. Instead of an inferno, this felt more like a smoldering acknowledgment. A hello. 

"I seem to recall that I still owe you something, Ben Solo," Rey murmured against his mouth, reluctant to pull away. 

With a low hum, his lips found her cheek, her jaw, her neck. "You seem to remember it correctly."

Rey gasped when his mouth skirted across a particularly sensitive spot. Ben was quick to close his lips around it. 

"I think you'll find—_ ah _—me to be in a rather generous mood tonight," she mused, burying her fingers in his hair just because she could. "What does your heart desire?"

"Anything?"

It was almost—fascinating how different he could be based on whichever direction the pendulum of his emotions had decided to swing in. Rough at times, nearly desperate, as eager to tease himself as he was her. But he could also go slow, like he was doing now, seemingly more interested in an unhurried search for—something, a languid exploration than getting off. And both of those sides, as well as many more she was eager to discover, were him. Complicated, even confusing and frustrating at times, but inarguably him. And she valued all of them alike. 

"Anything."

He gave himself some time to mull it over as he continued making acquaintances with the column of her throat. 

"I think—I want you to hold me."

Her eyes shot open (when had she closed them?), and Ben pulled away. 

"That's it? Just to hold you?"

"Yes. I never gave it that much thought before; didn't think there was much to it. But—it is what I find myself wishing for the most during the day. To be held." Something about her expression must have amused him—his lips quirked. "Can you do that for me—for now, at least? Please?"

"S-Sure," she stammered out, decidedly _ not _ thinking about the heart-wrenching implications of what he'd just said. "I can do that for you."

"For the record—I _ do _ want to do many, many things to you. But there are days when you just—"

"When you just want to be held."

He nodded. 

Rey knew those days all too well. Days when she'd seen a ship zoom over her AT-AT, one vaguely resembling that of a faded memory. She'd rush to Niima outpost, then, following the roar of its ion drive on her speeder, only to find that the strangers that had made planetfall were just that—strangers. Traders from a nearby star system looking to haggle over some rusty spaceship parts. Those kinds of days. 

The days when loneliness ached in her bones. 

* * *

"There is a school of thought—mostly forgotten by now, of course—that had less of a militant stance on what constitutes a balance. To the Jedi, the dark is a disease. A corruption in the Force that has to be eliminated at all costs. See here?" 

He tapped against a faded illustration that depicted a man clad in white, his blue lightsaber clashing against his opponent's. His nemesis could have passed for a twin if it weren't for the sweeping, black robes and the crimson blade. 

"Their thinking is that the light and the dark are meant to clash forever. Locked in a dance of sorts. Real balance—to them—would only come when the dark is no more. Though they themselves have always believed the day would never come. Hence the 'forever at odds' part. Then—" His brow furrowed, and he flipped through a few pages, the fragile, yellowed paper crinkling with his less than careful handling. "This is why I always hated the Aionomica, it just repeats the same thing over and over. The Chronicles of Brush-Bu, at least, had something resembling a storyline, nonsensical as though it was."

Rey's eyes, not keen on lingering over the sacred texts for any longer than necessary, drifted shut once more. She was so comfortable pressed up against his side, his hand lazily stroking her waist as the other shifted through the book that was propped up against his knees. Her own hand drew small circles on his stomach. On more than one occasion, it had strayed dangerously low to the waistband of his pants—to which he'd _ protested _, entranced by the texts as he was. Any fooling around would have to wait until later. 

She didn't mind, though. Rey liked listening to his voice, lower and smoother when he translated, with a sharper edge when he found something he disagreed with, a softer edge when he explained something in his own words. The contents of his speech were tolerable at best—but his _ voice _. The way it rumbled in his chest. She could listen to it forever. And the tomes were huge, so it was a real possibility. 

"The other school of thought—mentioned in passing, obviously, because why would the Jedi ever entertain the notion of being wrong—is less about resisting and more about understanding. _ Light and dark arise, mutually come into being _ ," he read out. " _ There's no cause and effect. Rather, it resembles the relationship between the egg and the hen. Thus the art of life is not seen as holding the light and banishing the dark, but as keeping the two in balance, because there cannot be one without the other— _Rey, are you even listening to me?"

"Mhm," she lied, snuggling against his chest. 

Ben sighed and skipped a few pages ahead. "You're hopeless. There are some valuable insights here."

"Yes, I'm sure that wherever Luke is, he's very proud of you at the moment," Rey said, only half-teasing.

His entire body tensed as his temper flashed just from hearing the name. "Luke—he's not—he didn't know _ anything _. If he'd spent less time looking at the horizon, maybe he would've noticed what was going on in front of his nose at the academy."

That piqued her curiosity. 

"Is that so?" she asked and opened her eyes. "What was it that he didn't see?"

Ben was resolutely staring at the book, the tips of his ears peeking out from a curtain of hair traitorously red. 

"Ben..." She injected as much honey into her voice as she could. "What sort of mischief were the younglings up to?"

Her change of tactics seemed to have had the opposite effect—he fisted the edge of the book, the leather cover groaning dangerously under the strain. 

"That's irrelevant," he said, tone clipped. "Let's just get back to the book."

Rey perked her head up. "Oh, no, no, _ no _ . You can't just _ allude _ to something like that and then drop it. That's not how it works."

He still wasn't looking at her, but she saw his resolution falter as he sighed. "If I do, can you promise not to bring it up ever again?"

"Sure," Rey smiled and pecked him on the cheek. "Now go on."

"It's really not that interesting."

"Stars, Ben, will you just _ tell _ me?"

Another sigh. 

"It's his teachings. The Jedi Code," he conceded after a brief pause. "It was doomed to fail from the beginning. Nobody could possibly follow through all of it to the extent that he wanted, but of course he didn't see it that way. Chose not to see it, maybe."

"Becaaause?"

"Many reasons, but mostly because they go against basic human nature. The Jedi are destined for endless battle, right? It's what they tell themselves from the very beginning of their training. But it's not just fighting an enemy—it's fighting yourself, too. Things such as forming attachments are strictly forbidden. You're supposed to live in a sterile bubble, emotionless and detached. In a word—denial of who you are." He scoffed bitterly. "How can you possibly close yourself off like that? You can't. It's all formed around a lie."

Rey thought it over for a moment. "So what you're saying is that while Luke was busy daydreaming, his pupils made themselves busy by fooling around in the bushes."

That made him laugh. A pure, delightful sound. "That too, yes. You try gathering a bunch of hormonal teenagers in a walled-off environment and see what happens."

She was still reeling from his laughter. But, slowly and surely, another realization dawned.

"That kiss of yours you seemed to be so hung up with. That's when it happened, wasn't it?"

By now, the blush had spread to the high points of his cheeks, and he closed his eyes in vain hopes to collect himself. But Rey was relentless. 

"Ben Solo, the Jedi prodigy," she teased. "Fooling around in the bushes with the common rabble, how _ outrageous _ ! You know what, I take back what I said, you _ are _ a disappointment to Luke after all..."

"I wasn't—_ fooling around in the bushes _," he hissed through gritted teeth. "And it only happened a few times. Out of curiosity. It meant nothing to me."

A loud snort escaped her mouth before she could help it. "Is that a hint of defensiveness I'm detecting? My, my, how the mighty have fallen—"

Suddenly, the world spun before her eyes, and Rey was on her back with her arms pinned above her head. Ben's face hovered over her—predatory, a bit wild. But still she couldn't stop laughing. 

"You're flustering me," he growled. 

"Is that so?"

"You're flustering me _ a lot _."

"Hmm." She tried to free her arms, but the attempt was half-hearted. Truth be told, underneath him had turned out to be one of her favorite places to be. "Is 'flustering the Supreme Leader' also a punishable offense under the rule of the First Order?"

"Keep talking, and it will be."

Stars, if only their circumstances were different. The things they could _ do _ to each other. With each other. 

"Okay, then. Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, I hereby surrender." Rey batted her eyelashes the way she'd seen other women do in holovids. "What's my punishment?"

The sound he made—raw, at the back of his throat—was nearly inhuman, something between a cry and a growl. 

Then the world went dark as his lips found hers, her tongue found his. At some point, her hands were freed, and once Rey became aware of this, she couldn't stop running them over the planes of his body. Even through the fabric of his shirt she could the expanse of smooth muscle, meant for touching, caressing, kissing. The frantic trail of her hands span everything—from his neck to his chest, then over his thick upper arms, everywhere she could reach. 

They were interrupted by a loud buzz. The sound was new. Persistent. Rey broke away from Ben with a frown—for the life of her, she couldn't figure out where it could be coming from.

He shared none of her confusion. Jaw drawn taut, he quickly got up on his knees and slammed his palm against the wall. 

"_ What, _" he all but snarled into the invisible comms link, "did I say about comming me at night?" 

"_ Supreme Leader, my sincerest apologies _—"

"Did I or did I not ask not to be disturbed under any circumstances?"

But of course he had. Rey scoffed and playfully kneed him in the side. He ignored her. 

"_ Yes, but— _" 

"So why am I being disturbed?"

"_ Supreme Leader, I must apologize again, but this is an emergency. _"

His hand, the one resting against the wall, closed into a fist. Ben shut his eyes, exhaling deeply.

"What is it?" he barked. "Be quick about it."

"_ It's Hux, sir. _"

Ben's eyes snapped open and fixed on Rey as if he'd only just remembered she was there. Propping herself on her elbows, she held his gaze in silence. A long moment passed, marked by the quick beating of her heart. Then— 

"What about him?" Ben asked, keeping his eyes trained on her.

"_ The allotted time for the arrival of the scouting parties has just run out, and one ship has failed to return. All of our attempts at communication have resulted in failure. General Hux insists on issuing a search and rescue operation immediately. Your express permission is needed, as per protocol. _"

Ben's shoulders relaxed as Rey's tensed up. It was good that he turned away—he couldn't see the blood draining from her face. But, surely, it couldn't be.

The odds would be _ astronomical _. 

Oblivious to her terror, Ben's tone once again took on a note of annoyance. "That's it? That's what couldn't wait until the morning?"

"_ Supreme Leader, must I remind you the importance General Hux places on smoothing out any possible delays with the Starkiller Supreme project. He specifically requested to contact you immediately in order to sort this issue out. _"

Her mind was a tumbling, racing, screaming mess. Rey wanted to say something, _ do _ something, but what was there to say? To do? She found herself unable to move. 

"Of course he did." Ben rubbed his temple and sighed. "My guess is that they've turned rogue, in which case their families will have the necessary information. Get ahold of them immediately and extract it. By any means necessary. Then issue a search and rescue. You won't find anything though. Which planet were they assigned to?"

Rey braced herself. 

"_ Chrona, sir. _"

And there it was. 

"Ben," she heard herself whisper. Or maybe plead. 

He glanced at her, doing a double-take as he saw her face. Whatever spell had rendered her frozen took ahold of him as well, save for his eyes. The dark, glistening eyes that widened with shock. Realization.

He knew. 

She knew that he knew.

It all felt surreal, almost like a bad joke. None of it made any sense. 

Though, at the back of her mind, a voice told her that it _ did _. Chrona had been on their radar ever since the incident that resulted in razing the fields, hadn't it? And—

Of course. If a planet was to be turned into a sun-devouring superweapon, what better choice would there be than one that had _ three _ of them in its proximity? 

Rey would've laughed if it weren't so tragic. 

Slowly, he turned his head and spoke into the comms link, "I changed my mind. Put a pin in it until further notice."

"_ But sir— _"

He slammed the button again. The room elapsed into deep silence. Her mind was still racing and hopping between '_ you must warn them _ ', ' _ talk to him _ ' and ' _ say nothing _' over and over again, but all that did was freeze her further. By far the worst part, though, was that she had no idea what he was thinking. Rey tried to gauge it through the Force but was met with an impenetrable brick wall.

And the way he was _ looking _ at her—eyes ablaze, lips parted. The same way he'd gazed at Snoke's empty throne. 

It scared her.

"Chrona, was it?" he finally asked. "So that's what that attack was."

She swallowed heavily. "Ben, _ please _. We need to think this through before—"

"All this time you were right underneath my nose." The fire in his eyes rose to near fanatical fervor. "Such an odd thing—fate. Bringing us together even when we're unaware. I could come get you. Right now."

"Except I'm not a _ thing _ for you to get!" 

His nostrils flared. He moved, quick as a flash, and Rey steeled herself in anticipation of—a scuffle, a kiss, something. Instead, he planted his feet on the ground and began putting on his boots without sparing her as much as a glance.

Bad, this was _ bad _.

Ben launched himself off the bed, aiming straight for the door. Rey had no choice but to dash after him and grab his upper arm before he fled the room completely. 

"Will you stop acting like a complete ass and _ listen _ ?" she hissed. "Yesterday you told me that you would. You _ promised _ you would."

He stopped in his tracks, the muscles underneath her touch drawn taut as a bowstring. 

"Go and warn your little friends," he said without turning to face her, voice barely above a whisper. "You should have enough time to evacuate if that's what you want to do."

"We can't do that," she hissed through gritted teeth, panic swirling in her chest. 

"And why is that?"

_ Because most of our ships just left, leaving half the Resistance stranded and defenseless like lambs for slaughter. _

But she knew that revealing that would only invite more trouble. And Ben's demeanor didn't exactly inspire much confidence. 

"We need more time. A few days, at least."

"Not my problem you're disorganized and unprepared."

Her grip on his arm tightened. "Three days. I'm asking for three days."

"I can't do that."

It was the air of nonchalance, his indifferent coolness that frustrated her the most. Or maybe that fact that she'd—falsely—been lulled into believing that he would show mercy. Maybe she was equally angry at them _ both _. 

"Coward."

"What?" he asked softly, _ way _ too softly. 

"You heard me. You're a coward," she spat. "Do something. Stand for something."

Ben turned around, shirking her hand off in the process. His face was blank and lifeless like a mask. "Stand for _ you _, you mean. As far as I'm concerned, I'm already committing treason by discussing this with you in the first place. If the Resistance is so incompetent that an advance warning is not enough, you all deserve to be wiped out."

She summoned her lightsaber without thinking. It was instinct, driven by a flash of anger. Its weight was comfortable, the cool handle soothing in the heat of the moment. Ben didn't react, his eyes trained to the weapon she was now turning mindlessly in her hands. 

They were teetering on the verge of slipping back into their old roles, she realized. How easy it would be, how natural.

But then, for some strange reason, she remembered her dream. The warning she'd received.

"I—don't want to fight you. Ever again." It was odd how difficult these six words were to say. But once she did, Rey knew it was true. "I also don't think it's a battlefield, but rather a green place we're supposed to meet in."

This was better. She'd resisted her urge to attack him. He'd resisted his urge to flee the room and act rashly. She was opening herself up. He was listening. 

Progress. 

"I want this to be over." The softness in his voice seemed more genuine now. "It's time, Rey. Let's finish this once and for all."

Rey sighed. "The way I see it, no matter what happens, sacrifices will have to be made. Soon. The question is, what are we willing to sacrifice? And to what end?"

At that moment, she would've given anything to get as much as an inkling of what he was thinking. But his walls were still up, expression as unreadable as ever. 

"I didn't kill them," Ben blurted out, looking as surprised at his own words as Rey was. 

She blinked, puzzled. "What?"

"The students at Luke's academy. It wasn't me. I just took the credit."

The way he looked at her, eyes frantically scanning her face, it seemed like he was expecting something. A particular response. The rights words. 

Rey had no idea what they were.

"Okay," she said, too taken aback by the sudden change of topic. "I did have my suspicions about that."

Ben took a step forward, breaching her personal space. 

"Why?" His eyes bore into hers. "Why would you have suspicions? Nobody else did."

She shrugged. "Nobody else knows you like I do."

It could've been a trick of the light, something about the table lamp that draped the room in a warm glow as well as deep shadows, but Rey could swear she saw him shiver. Briefly, just for a split second, he shivered.

"Thank you," Ben muttered. 

And, before she could stop him, he left the room. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The details about Ben’s time at the academy and its fallout come from the Rise of Kylo Ren comic, which I highly recommend! It’s tragic but very, very good. (I judge all the post-tros auxiliary media based on whether I can incorporate it with my headcanons. Most of it is, unsurprisingly, pure garbage, but this one fits almost perfectly so how’s that for a recommendation. :D) 
> 
> And, of course (as always) thank you so much for reading. 💕


	15. Chapter 15

It was past midnight, and Rey, jaw set and chest swirling with panic, banged on the comm room's door. 

The sound spilled sharply through the shadowy hall, but she didn't care. She'd already woken up two whole floors in her effort to locate Leia, first by knocking on her bedroom's door, then Poe's. The only response she'd gotten was in the form of some less than courteous comments from the nearby rooms. 

At an hour this late, this was the only other place she could be in. 

" _ Come in, Rey _ !" 

Even through the door, Leia's voice rang with just the right amount of sternness and warmth. As Rey entered, she already felt a touch calmer; after all, if there was anyone who could fix the incoming mess, it was their General. 

She'd never actually stepped inside the heart of their covert operation. 

Despite its importance, the place left much to be desired. In fact, if it weren't for the bulky comms panel that covered an entire wall, it could almost be mistaken for a utility closet. Dusty and cramped, the room had barely enough space for a table. It was squeezed between the panel and a wall, empty cups of caf and holopads scattered across the surface. The two Resistance leaders were sitting next to it, their faces drawn but attentive. 

"Rey! Been a while since I've seen you without a flock of kids," Poe said as he reached for the nearest cup, his smirk twisting into a scowl when it turned out to be empty. "Which means it must be past bedtime. What's up?" 

Rey, who had a nagging suspicion most of the cups were his, made a judgment call. One overagitated person—that person being her—was enough. 

"Poe, I'll need you to step out of the room. Now."

He blinked. "What—why? What's going on?"

" _ Because _ ," she hissed through gritted teeth, "I know how you'll react, and rash decisions are the last thing we need right now."

"Oookay." He sank lower into his chair and crossed his arms. "Now I'm  _ definitely _ staying." 

It took a conscious effort not to tap her foot against the floor. She settled for crossing her own arms instead. What was it with grown men in power acting like petulant children? Maybe it was just Rey's luck.

"Poe," Leia said, tone the firmest steel. "You're dismissed for the day. Go get some rest."

He opened his mouth to protest, but the look she shot him—a warning—allowed for no further objections. The fight in his eyes dimmed against the terrifying onslaught of Leia's sheer and quiet will. Making a displeased sound under his breath, the man got up and brushed past Rey. A moment later, the door whipped shut behind him. 

The second he left, Rey hurled herself into the empty seat.

"So—" she drawled, not quite knowing how to begin, but knowing that she  _ should _ . And fast. 

"So?" 

Leia nodded encouragingly, taking her right hand into hers. Her touch was soft. Soothing. Rey took a deep breath. "Let's say, hypothetically speaking..." 

The General smiled, eyes glinting. "Hypothetically. Of course." 

"Let's say that the First Order might—emphasis on  _ might _ —be aware of our base. Of this planet. And that they  _ might _ carry out an attack shortly. In this purely hypothetical scenario, what could we do?"

The glint in Leia's eyes vanished together with all the color in her face. 

"What did that laserbrain son of mine do this time?" Her grip on Rey's hand tightened. "Tell me everything, Rey. Now."

She did. 

With some necessary omissions, of course. 

* * *

  
  


Leia had closed her eyes, hands rubbing small circles over her temples. "You asked him for more time. How sure are you that he won't give it to us?"

"He might, he might not. Stars, I'm not sure about  _ anything _ ," Rey exclaimed. "He just—waltzed off." 

"Just like that? Without saying a word?"

"Just like that." Rey herself tried not to linger on that part too much, lest she was consumed by an overpowering need to cuss out all the Skywalker men and their overdramatic antics. "If I could—I don't know—comm him or something, I would. But I can't. And our bond doesn't work like that either."

Leia finally opened her eyes. She didn't appear upset or even afraid, just—tired. Very, very tired. Rey didn't know what it was like to carry that much responsibility for years on end, that much legacy. But she did know exhaustion, so she reached out and hugged her, briefly but firmly, as the Force around them hummed in approval. 

"Right.  _ Right _ ," Leia muttered to herself after they let go. Rey could see it in her gaze—unfocused but intense. A plan was already brewing in her head. "I need to get Poe; I hope the half-hour of sleep he got will be enough. And Rey, can you be a dear and fetch us all some caf? We're in for a long night, the three of us."

  
  


* * *

Rey woke up sometime at midday with a blanket around her shoulders. Her face had been pressed into the cold surface of the desk, no doubt leaving less than flattering indentations on her face. Wincing, she wiped a trail of drool from the corner of her mouth, then the rest off the table with her sleeve. 

She'd passed out in the early hours of the morning after a particularly rough caffeine crash. Last night came back to her as a frantic blur. She'd listened in on comms, taken notes and discussed their options. While the rest of the Resistance were sound asleep, they worked tirelessly under the dim blue glow of screens and made the necessary arrangements. It took some sweet-talking, but Leia had managed to order a few transport vessels that were scheduled to arrive that very afternoon.

If Ben was to be trusted—and it was a big if—they could survive this after all. 

Kylo Ren, the last hope of the Resistance.

Talk about  _ irony _ .

Many anxious faces passed her as Rey made her way up the stairs. Everyone was scurrying to and from, carrying luggage, gathering in corners and whispering amongst themselves in ominous tones. 

The tension cut at her like ice-cold air. 

Some tried to stop her in the corridors, asking to clarify a thing or two, to reassure that it was going to be okay. Rey waved them all off with an apologetic smile. 

One of the benefits of owning very few possessions was that packing them all up took barely any time at all. Some clothes, mostly loose tunics, cream-colored shirts and a few pairs of trousers, were all stuffed into her backpack. The rations she'd swiped from the kitchens were placed in a plastic bag that was jammed on top. A few knives, toiletries, and other knick-knacks she crammed into its side pockets. The heavy Jedi tomes were trickier to manage—those Rey tied with a hair string, bundling them together into a neat stack. Her lightsaber, of course, was clipped to her belt. Her quarterstaff slung over her back.

Then it was done, her things packed, and she took a minute for herself. 

Rey sank down on her bed for one last time, taking in her surroundings. She'd never been one to attach too much meaning to objects and places beyond their basic monetary value. But this place, this  _ room  _ with its completely ordinary furniture and wallpaper in the blandest shade of brown— 

It didn't feel like home, but it  _ had _ felt safe. Here, in the most ordinary location imaginable, she'd found the most unordinary oasis. 

Her affectionate gaze flicked to her nightstand, and it hit her that she'd forgotten to clean out its drawers. Not that there was much in them. In fact, they were empty, save for—

It started out as a small shiver down her spine, her body having an odd, tingling sort of a reaction before her mind could catch up. 

There it was, forgotten and collecting dust.

The signal beacon.

Rey lifted it up carefully. It was such a small thing, lying in her palm. A small assurance that she'd never be alone. 

Never once activated.

Her heart was pounding against her ribs now. Rey's mind was somehow racing a million parsecs ahead and also frozen solid. All this time, the answer had been right under her nose. She'd just been blind to see it. Scared, perhaps, to even consider the possibility. 

Carefully, so as not to push the button, her fingers closed around the device.

For the first time in a long time, Rey knew exactly what she had to do. 

  
  


* * *

The evacuation may have sent the whole Resistance into a frenzy, but the hangar was vacant. The few lone ships loomed silently like some ancient beasts with not a soul in sight. 

Rey took it as a good sign. For once, something was working out in her favor. Ben would say it was destiny—or something similarly sappy. Rey would say it was because the last pre-evacuation lunch had just been served. 

All the uncertainty and the worry in her stomach was slowly starting to twist into something else—something lighter and brighter. And she hated,  _ hated  _ the idea that her reckless plan was making her this excited.

And it  _ was _ reckless. But Rey was committed to it now. Once the idea first popped into her head, she knew she'd have to do it regardless of any and all consequences.

Because it felt right. That was the only justification she had.

It was enough.

She sneaked onboard the Falcon first and placed the infuser chip on its dashboard. Chewie would know what it was for. Maybe he'll even have time to install it before the evacuation. Rey lingered for just a moment, hand tenderly sweeping over the console. Then she was gone.

The TIE shuttle was parked exactly where Rey had last seen it. The ship was massive, built for combat as well as troop transportation, its black polish glistening in the sunlight and putting the other grimy vessels to shame. She trotted across the hangar and boarded it without a hiccup.

It was only when she'd thrown herself into the pilot's seat and hurled her stack of books and backpack aside when her heart caught up with the craziness of it all. Rey dug her palms into the dashboard, closing her eyes and breathing through her mouth. In and out, in and out.

_ Easy _ , she reminded herself.  _ It's calling you—an instinct, the Force or something else. It's calling you, and you should follow it. The more parsecs you put between yourself and this place, the easier it will get.  _

"I thought I saw someone climb onboard! Why Poe needed an inventory check  _ now _ is beyond me, but I'm almost done. Wanna grab—Rey, what are you doing?" 

Rey whirled around. 

It was Rose, clutching a datapad to her chest, her gaze tentative and—glued to the backpack.

Rey got up to her feet as slowly as she could. "Rose, I know what this looks like."

"That you're leaving us when things go south?" Rose asked bitterly. "Yeah, it sure looks like it."

"Listen to me. I am not deserting," Rey explained in that firm yet warm tone she'd heard Leia use so many times that night. "But there are some things I need to take care of."

Rose's mouth drew into a tight line. "Does General Organa know? Do you have clearance?"

"I didn't ask." There was no point in lying. Not anymore. "I'd go regardless of what she says. Or anyone else, for that matter."

"You're going to him, aren't you?"

Rey took a small step forward and watched as Rose shrank the same distance back. Her face, however, showed no fear, the brave and fierce little thing that she was. Despite knowing all too well how unevenly the two of them were matched. 

"Yes, I'm going to him," Rey said. "I have to. I don't expect you to understand, neither am I going to explain myself right now, but—I have to."

There was a long, drawn-out silence.

It was Rose who broke it. "You know how they say that love is just the best thing ever? Butterflies, sunshine, and all that. Well, it's true. But it also kind of  _ sucks _ , doesn't it?"

Rey stood gaping, completely taken aback. 

"Well, I—" she stammered. "I'm not going  _ strictly _ because of that, we do have matters concerning our factions to discuss. And I believe we're at that point now. Where we can—we can discuss." 

"Yeah, right," Rose scoffed. "I've seen and heard it all before, spare me."

Her lips quivered in a vain effort to hold back a wry smile. 

Rey shook her head. "I thought you'll be angry."

"And I am. Completely furious. But I also get it, I guess. As in, I get the  _ concept _ , maybe not so much the idea of you two—you know."

Rey couldn't contain a smile of her own now. "Discussing?"

"Yeah," Rose laughed. "That." 

Throughout all the internal Resistance drama, Rey had almost forgotten why they'd been friends. But it all came rushing back to her now. It was Rose's unwavering loyalty, her desire to protect her loved ones above all else, sometimes even from themselves. They'd become fast friends, maybe not  _ best _ friends quite yet, but the opportunity was there. It rankled now, that the potential had been squandered over something as trivial as a misunderstanding.

Rose's expression turned serious. "Will you be back?"

A pause.

"I don't know," Rey said earnestly. 

"I really hope you know what you're doing."

Rey sighed. "Me too."

The two women then embraced. It was incredible, how such a short and sweet gesture of solidarity could make her feel so much lighter. Like an invisible weight she'd been carrying was gone for good. 

"Thank you for understanding," Rey said. "Say goodbye to Finn for me?"

Rose rolled her eyes. "I'm gonna get such an earful for letting you go.  _ Not _ looking forward to that conversation."

"I'm sure you'll manage somehow."

"I just realized we'll be stuck in a ship for days!" Rose groaned. "Are you sure you don't want to stay? For my sanity's sake?"

"I'm sure," Rey said with a smile. "Now go. I need to do this before everyone starts arriving from lunch."

Granting her a last, somewhat doleful look, Rose nodded fiercely. And, just like that, she was out of the cockpit and on her way to the ramp. Before she exited the ship, however, her voice sounded through the corridors once more, " _ Hope you two have some good, long talks! _ "

" _ Thanks! _ " Rey shouted out after her, face growing hot.

Through the viewport, she could see Rose crossing the hangar without looking back, and Rey— 

Rey shot up through the clouds in the same manner. 

With a purpose.

  
  


* * *

The council meeting, as always, ran late. 

The topic on today's agenda was whether to forge an alliance with the Hutts. Ben had made his stance clear from the very beginning; their history of crime was too long, their loyalty too venal. Then there was the bad blood between the cartel and his family. That part he'd kept to himself, of course. 

The temptation to cut the discussion short and call it a day was strong. He could issue a crusade against their entire bloodline right now, purge their memory from the galaxy forever. But the voice of his mother—why did it always have to be the voice of his mother—echoed in his ear from who knows how many years ago.

_ If there's one thing I've learned _ , she'd said to him with a mischievous smile,  _ it's that you should always let people speak their mind. Even if you know they'll say something foolish. When people think they've been heard, they'll be more likely to listen to you in turn. Strategically giving and taking—that's the key to being a good leader.  _

_ Politics are boring,  _ he'd grumbled, the naive and short-sighted boy that he was. _ Your home planet blew up, so I'll never need to be a prince. _

_ And I never thought I'd marry a smuggler, but look at me now,  _ Leia had laughed. _ Life always takes the strangest turns, sweetie.  _

Their economics advisor was still talking. He'd pulled up a holoprojection of a map that was zoomed in on the Hutts' area of influence. As he spoke, images of different planets came into focus, almost all of them desert wastelands no one would miss. 

Ben blinked and sat up straighter. Was he making an argument for or against? He'd zoned out. Again. If only he could stop feeling so itchy, so annoyingly  _ restless.  _

But he had to make an effort. Everything was hanging by a thread as it was. 

As if he'd heard his thoughts, Hux turned his head to bestow him with an icy glare. Ben held it, dispassionate and unblinking, until the other man looked away. He didn't even have to use the Force to know exactly what Hux was thinking.

Having finished making his case—whatever it may have been—the speaker sat down. The next one, hopefully the last one, took his place and pulled up some charts of her own. 

Ben willed himself to relax his shoulders, to unclench his fists, to calm down. 

Some of his built-up frustration had been released that morning. He'd trained mercilessly, tirelessly until the back of his throat tasted like iron and two recruits had left the hall in tears.

But it was building up again, the familiar rage that seared its way up his chest. He spoke its language fluently, had adopted it like a second skin. Screams and bruises formed the words, broken bones and objects were the pauses in-between. For years, it had been the only way he could express himself. That was until— 

Ben noticed that the thread of discussion was lost to him again. He forced himself to listen. 

"—possess a considerable armada. Around five hundred ships, if our reports are accurate. If we do decide to engage in open warfare, we have to consider all the potential defensive pacts they may have made with the other cartels. If that's the case—"

His wrist— _ buzzed. _

For a split second, Ben believed he'd finally lost his mind for good. 

Then the realization crashed onto him all at once. The world spun before his eyes, the droning voice in the background faded to nothing. 

Discreetly, he laid his left hand onto his lap and unrolled his sleeve.

The signal beacon around his wrist glowed with a bright, pulsing light. For a moment he just stared at it, transfixed. 

Any hopes that Rey would use it—that she would  _ need _ him—had deflated as time went by. For the first few days, he'd checked on it religiously, nearly every time he thought no one was looking. And every time he was met with nothing but a sting of disappointment. Eventually, he'd stopped hoping for the impossible, but the habit was already formed. Ben still put it on every morning.

And here it was, clear as day.

A call. For  _ him _ . 

Which could only mean— 

"Excuse me."

He pushed himself to his feet, interrupting the speaker mid-sentence. She paled and froze, swallowing thickly as all the faces around the long table swirled to him. 

"Finish up without me," Ben instructed as he strode towards the exit, keeping his voice as even as he could.

Someone mustered enough courage to speak up. "With all due respect, Supreme Leader, we need your—"

But it was too late. The pneumatic doors hissed shut behind him.

There was a small part of him that hated,  _ hated _ the idea of Rey having so much power over him that a single sign would make him drop everything and go wherever she would need him to be, and yet— 

The second he was safely out of sight, Ben Solo broke into a sprint. 

  
  


* * *

He was in the middle of pre-flight checks when Hux caught up with him. He stopped right next to the TIE Whisper, slightly out of breath. 

"Where do you think you're going?" Hux demanded as he straightened the lapels of his uniform. 

"Urgent business. None of your concern," Ben replied without taking his eyes off the dashboard. His hands glided over the switches, turned on the various pieces of equipment fluidly, automatically. Like it was second nature. 

The engine purred to life. 

"Have you gone completely mad?" Hux spat. "We have trade negotiations with Coruscant scheduled for tomorrow, or did you forget? You can't just  _ leave _ ."

"Are you implying that my council is so inept they can't last a day without me? I'd be flattered if I didn't know you better," Ben said as he recalibrated the navicomputer. "If you're displeased with their aptitude, I can replace every single person when I return. Starting with you."

Again, he didn't even have to look to know that Hux was  _ fuming _ .

"When will you be back?" 

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Ben deflected, partially to mask that he himself didn't know either. 

All the lights in the dashboard blinked in unison, signaling that the systems were set and the ship ready for take-off. Finally, he afforded himself a moment to look down at the bristling man beside his starfighter. "If you try anything while I'm gone, I'll know. Is that clear?"

Hux was flushed crimson, mouth almost twisting into a snarl. For a moment there, it looked like he was on the verge of either telling Ben exactly what he thought of him—or spontaneously combusting. Instead, he abruptly turned on his heel, marching off across the glossy black floors. 

Another flick of a switch, and the entrance hatch sealed itself shut. 

The ship was a work of art; it moved with a weightless grace, its controls sensitive to the lightest touch. 

As the flagship shrank behind him, Ben prepared for a jump to hyperspace. He connected the beacon to the navicomputer without looking, only glancing down to confirm the coordinates on the screen.

Glancing down and—freezing.

Slowly, his hands returned to the dashboard. His heartbeat steadied, shoulders relaxed despite his rising excitement. Thank the stars he'd checked before wasting fuel by going the wrong way. 

The destination wasn't at all what he'd expected, but— 

The ship was soaring through hyperspace, the glimmer of a million stars bleeding into a pale-blue radiance, and, still, he couldn't stop smiling. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the lack of Reylo, but I can promise from the bottom of my heart that the next chapter will more than make up for it. 👀✨  
While we’re waiting, comments would be very much appreciated for the extra boost of motivation to get the next one out as soon as possible. :D


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are crazy, crazy times we’re living in. Hope everyone’s staying safe! 💕 I, for one, am cooped up inside my apartment, spending some quality time with my cat and writing. University is suspended for a month, and I’m doing my best not to go *too* stir-crazy.  
Be that as it may, your encouragement has been absolutely wonderful. It really went a long way in making me write faster and, hopefully, better.  
I think I’m really happy about the way this chapter turned out! In fact, it might be my favorite one yet. Enjoy. 🌟

Rey knew he was closing in.

She could neither see nor hear it, not yet, but she _ knew _. 

It began as a faint tugging at her nape. Then, slowly and surely, it grew, unraveling through her like a rising tide. The feeling was strange, one that Rey could only describe as a gradual saturation, a particular _ rightness _ that thrummed in her blood. Just as the signature roar of a TIE twin ion engine began to sound in the distance, it reached its crescendo. 

She was left light-headed, all her fine hairs standing on end. 

That last part, perhaps, had less to do with the bond and more with the person on its other end. 

Had she always had such a visceral reaction to his presence? 

Rey couldn't recall anymore; it had been a while since they'd met in person. Back then, it was always under duress and never in a place like _ this _. 

She was perched on an immense cliff, legs dangling over the ledge. Far below her, crested by the rocky plateaus, lay a lush, green valley. The bright morning sun glistened in the rivers, danced in the treetops and grazed the tiny hamlets that sprouted intermittently through the thick forests. 

The cliff was so high up Rey could almost stretch her hand and touch the clouds. It felt fitting, in a way. The planet had an unhurried, dream-like quality to it. She could linger there without ever visiting the ground level. Just observing from her vantage point would be enough. 

Which was why, when a strong gust of wind whipped at her clothes and the tiny rocks by her palms began to quiver, she didn't turn her head to look. 

He was right behind her, a burning presence in the Force, landing his ship next to hers.

And Rey kept staring ahead. 

She'd been there for a while, sitting and planning what to say. Now, though— 

The engine, so thunderous mere moments ago, ground to an abrupt halt. 

A hatch hissed open. 

It was like the wind had blown away all her talking points. But it was okay. The two of them, they could always improvise. 

The soft sound of footsteps approaching.

Rey waited.

It was closer, so much closer now, and she drew a breath.

Still, she waited.

And then he was there, sitting down next to her. He was really there.

Ben had come for her.

Rey knew that he would, of course. But it was still a lot, _ he _ was a lot, with his cape splayed out behind him in waves and a mildly curious look on his face.

"Quite the location for a first date," he said, the corners of his mouth quirking into a wry smile.

"It's not a date," Rey retorted automatically. 

His smile grew wider. 

"When the signal went off, I thought something happened. That you were in danger," Ben said. "But then—"

"Then you saw the coordinates," she said, nodding pensively. 

"Yes."

She could only glance at him in short bursts, gaze quickly cutting back to the safety of the scenery ahead. Rey didn't know why.

"Kiros. I haven't been back here since that summit I showed you. The event was held there." He pointed towards a patch of buildings deeper into the forest, the highest of which stuck out over the treetops. "Never had the chance to go up here, though. I was told that this plateau is sacred for the local artists; they're only allowed here for one day a year. They each choose the exact time and place, paint until nightfall, then do it all over again the next year." 

"I guess we're trespassing on sacred grounds, then."

"I guess we are," he agreed calmly. "Rey, what happened?"

She half-shrugged. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

He was staring at her now, almost burning a hole in the side of her face.

It was hard, a lot harder than during their evening connections for some reason, but Rey forced herself to meet his gaze. Maybe it was the magnitude of it all, that it was _ real _ now. He was here, and she was here, too. And in this timeless world, they could have the illusion of _ having _ all the time in the world. 

The prospect was almost terrifying.

"What about the search and rescue op? Did you delay it?" Rey asked. 

Ben's reply came late, the words leaving his mouth near begrudgingly. "I did. Though I'm sure Hux overrode my command the moment I left the Finalizer."

She took a moment to calculate the time differences. 

"That's fine," Rey concluded. "The Resistance will be long gone by then. Thank you, Ben."

He hummed dreamily, eyes flicking down to her lips. She pressed them together to stifle a laugh. "I'm not rewarding you for showing basic decency. You don't earn good-boy points for doing the right thing, and even if you did, you _ definitely _ couldn't trade them in for, uh, favors."

His eyebrow quirked. "Funny, I don't remember saying that."

"No," she agreed. "Your thoughts are very loud, though."

"Are they?"

It was one of those rare moments where his expression warped into something bold, almost roguish. It made him look so much younger, but Rey couldn't dwell on it for long because her senses were suddenly overflooded as an image—a _ fantasy _—flashed before her eyes. One showing exactly how loud he thought she'd be when they'd— 

"For kriff's sake, Ben," Rey berated, her cheeks burning, while Ben burst into laughter. "We're on the ledge of a cliff. Don't push your luck."

"That's right, you did threaten to throw me off once. It wouldn't work, by the way," he added all too smugly. "I can catch myself with the Force. Can't say the same about you, though."

She cast him a suspicious glance. "I didn't know that was possible."

"Me neither. Not until Snoke pushed me off once. For practice purposes, you see. I guess you could say I had to learn it _ on the fly. _"

Rey winced. Both at the terrible imagery and the equally terrible pun. 

Something about him was different, and it wasn't just the demeanor. He seemed brighter, more alive, somehow. She wondered if it had anything to do with him finally taking a break from ruling the galaxy, whether he even realized how much freer he was without the weight of it all on his shoulders. 

Be that as it may, Rey wasn't about to bring it up. This conclusion he had to reach on his own. 

In the biting morning sunlight, he also _ looked _ different. With how often she'd seen him in the perpetual half-twilight of her old bedroom, Rey had almost forgotten how much lighter the color of his hair appeared to be in natural lighting. The same could be said about his eyes. They gleamed in the color of liquid gold instead of the familiar ebony. And then there were mappings of freckles and birthmarks—mesmerizing in their own right—which popped with particular fierceness against his ivory skin. The skin that could benefit from being kissed by the sun, or, perhaps, simply— 

Kriff.

She was staring.

"What?" he asked, knowing perfectly well _ what _. 

Rey scrunched her nose. "This is weird. You're here, and I'm here, and we actually have _ time _—"

"Scared?" Ben challenged her, unfazed by her awkwardness. "I won't bite. Not unless you want me to, that is. In which case I will, Rey. Wherever you want."

Huffing, she bumped her shoulder against his and then—stayed there. He repositioned himself just slightly, allowing her to lean against him as he brought an arm around her waist. That special kind of fullness in her veins, seemingly only reserved for him, sang to life, and Rey pulled on the hem of his cape, wrapping it around both of them like a blanket.

It was a soft and unspoken agreement that they'd reached—not to bring up their factions, not to bring up the war. Rey knew they had to do it eventually, but for now, frankly, she couldn't be bothered. Not when the view stretching in front of them was this spectacular, not when the sky was in the purest shade of blue.

Not when he was next to her like this. 

Down below, a flock of colorful birds took off in the air like a sizzling, rainbow cloud. 

They sat there for a long time, merely watching. Basking in each other's presence.

Neither said a word.

They didn't have to.

* * *

"I thought you'd be arriving in the Falcon."

Rey didn't answer right away. She was bent over, her upper body partially inside a large storage trunk. 

"It's Chewie's ship," she said, voice muffled by the stacks of produce around her head. "Did you want him as my chaperone? I'm quite he'd have his bowcaster drawn on you at all times."

"Never mind."

The mission of her ship's previous occupants had been cut short, which was—unlucky for them but very lucky for Ben and Rey, who now had access to their remaining supplies. She rummaged through the container excitedly, heart trembling with glee.

It was more than enough for two people. There was a surprising variety, too: dried fruit and different kinds of cured meat, the fancy kind of porridge with berries already mixed in, cheese in colors ranging from white to blood red, all separated into plastic boxes, and—was that _ honey _? 

"Isn't this a bit—excessive for one measly scouting party?"

Ben drew up behind her and glanced over her shoulder. "What, this? These are the appetizers. You know, snacks."

"I know what appetizers are, _ Ben _."

"Sure, Rey. The dried rations are probably over there." 

He nodded at three more containers a bit off to the side. 

Willing her eyes back into their sockets, Rey shook her head. "We could live off this for months."

A short pause. 

"We could," he agreed quietly. 

After lingering by her side for just a moment longer, he strode off to comb through the rows of metal lockers by the walls. The cargo hold was on the bottom deck of the ship, half-submerged in shadow. With no access to sunlight and the temperature set low, the place was nippy, leaving goosebumps on her skin. 

"Find a blanket, will you?" Rey asked as she scooped out all the chocolate she could find.

Behind her, the lockers' doors were banging open and shut in a steady rhythm. 

"Want to have a nap already? Rey, it's _ noon _."

"No, I want you to find a blanket," she rebutted, adding another plastic container to the growing stack in her arms. "And a basket or something. I don't want to stay cooped up inside a ship for a second longer than I have to."

"I see." Another door slammed shut, the next one creaking open right after. "Anything else? Some wine, maybe?"

Rey couldn't tell if he was joking. "It's not a date."

"Why not?"

Okay, maybe he _ was _ being sincere after all. Rey was thankful for the stacked containers that obstructed his view to her flushing face. "I don't know. Aren't we past that already? Isn't dating the kind of thing people do _ before _getting together?"

He walked up to her, a large blanket thrown across his shoulder, and scooped the containers out of her arm. 

"Rey." He tilted his head down, boring into her with excruciating severity. "Let's not dance around the subject. You know as well as I do that our destinies are linked. Which means that once the war is over—and it will be soon—we'll be spending the rest of our lives together." She opened her mouth to protest, to say _ something _ , but he was quick to cut her off. "This is our one chance to spend time together, fuck, and pretend that we're regular people doing whatever it is that regular people do. Because once we can be together properly and permanently, we'll want _ everything _ from each other, and fast. So let's have ourselves a prologue while we still can." 

Her mouth did an admirable impression of the cabinets' doors, opening and closing several times in vain. "You can be_ so much _ sometimes, do you know that?"

"You like that about me."

Not wanting to grace that statement with an answer, she rose up on her toes to catch his lips, but, that roguishness once again glinting in his eyes, Ben booped her nose with the tip of his index finger and scampered up the ramp.

"_ You _—"

There was no other choice, really, but to dash after him.

  
  


* * *

The summit plateau they were on was huge. 

When they emerged from Rey's ship, provisions at the ready, the morning mist had all but cleared up, revealing a sweeping stretch of land. Further along, the solid rock gave way to patches of green which then turned into alpine meadows, shimmering gently in the wind. Way off into the distance, she could even spot some thickets of trees. 

As lazy clouds rolled by, almost within reach, Rey was overtaken by how strange this all was. That they've found each other here, a place so painfully breathtaking it didn't feel real, while their factions went about their day. That the war showed no signs of stopping, and yet here they were, on the verge of having a kriffing _ picnic _ on a stretch of land that had more in common with a floating island than a cliff. 

He'd left his gloves behind, and the cape too, which was a bit of a shame. Oh, how nicely it would flutter behind him in the wind; Rey was no artist, she'd never even held a brush in her hand, but if she could only travel up here annually to paint, _ he _ would be her subject. 

As beautiful as the scenery was, it was nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to him.

"You okay?" he checked in, startling her out of the reverie.

She had it so bad for him, it was almost embarrassing. 

Rey just smiled and nodded. Together, they set off wordlessly into the green. 

The sun, now in its peak, was bearing down on them insistently. Maybe it had been wise of him to shed the extra layers after all. 

Venturing deeper and deeper inward, they reached a wild meadow with stalks of grass so tall they grazed her thighs, wildflowers sprinkled over the top. 

They waded through it without stopping; Rey wanted to lay on the grass, not be buried _ in _ it. Though she did allow herself to linger for just a moment. An idea had sprung to her mind. 

"Red or blue?" she asked as Ben pushed forward.

"Hmm?" 

He was a man on a mission, determined to find the perfect, secluded spot. 

"Red or blue, choose."

"Uh, blue," he answered vacuously, barely paying attention to her as he stopped to survey the surrounding grounds. 

Rey used the opportunity to pluck a poppy, its petals a striking shade of cobalt. Then she trotted ahead to catch up with him. He was standing still, eyes fixed ahead.

"Let's go under that tree there," he said, pointing towards the spot. 

Rey's full attention was on him, and she nodded without looking. "Lean down a bit?"

"It should have enough shade, and the grass won't be as—what?" He shot her a perplexed look, eyes dipping to the flower in her hand. 

"Lean down. Please."

With noticeable hesitation, he acquiesced, following her movements carefully. As if he was afraid she'll hurt him somehow. 

Rey felt flattered. How much damage did he think she could do with a _ flower _? 

It was a question for another day. For now, she merely tucked the poppy behind his ear, a huge smile spreading on her face.

When he straightened out, Rey could barely suppress a squeal of joy. The blue was an excellent choice; it suited his pale complexion and dark hair perfectly. 

"Better?" he asked, features softening now that she was happy. 

Because this was how it worked—the bond, the feedback loop it created. Everything amplified, emotions bouncing back and forth until something pulled them out of their shared headspace. Except that, this time, there were no distractions around.

Just the two of them and raw freedom.

"The best," Rey breathed. 

She wanted to kiss him now, wanted to so badly, but once again he sensed it and brushed past her with an all too pleased look. Rey only didn't kick up a fuss because it was getting hot. The prospect of hiding out in the shade was gaining more appeal by the minute. 

It was a tall tree, twisted and wiry, with strangely long leaves. They swayed in the wind like green ribbons, or maybe frills. Their gentle rustling, so slow and peaceful, reminded Rey of waves in the sea. 

Underneath the tree was where they laid out the blanket. Again, it was wordless, perfect cooperation as the smoothed out its corners, took out the plastic containers from the crate (The First Order ships, as it turned out, did not stock baskets). 

An odd thought struck her. Say, hypothetically, they _ would _ end up spending their lives together. Would they, at some point, stop talking altogether? Not in the passive-aggressive way she'd seen some married couples adopt, but rather because she and Ben didn't _ need _ to. 

She hoped not. If only because she enjoyed hearing the deep timbre of voice.

And then everything was laid out, food set and ready, and yet—

Neither of them as much as spared it a glance. No, their eyes were locked on each other, searching, taking in. 

Rey drew a slow, shaky breath. 

The leaves rustled once again, and, with them, a light shudder traversed Rey's spine. The air was gentle, so sweet. So contrasting with the heavy _ something _that loomed between them as they sat face to face, completely unmoving. 

"Rey," he ground out.

"Ben."

They stared at each other for just a moment longer. Then, with a sharp wave of his hand, all the carefully placed containers were pushed to the sides, leaving a large, empty spot in the center of the blanket. 

His eyes were fire and fever. "Yes?" 

There were many things she wanted to say to him, many things he needed to hear.

But, at that moment, her entire being, the universe, and everything in-between narrowed down to just one single word.

"Yes."

They met each other half-way, reaching and grabbing, mouths clashing before they'd steadied themselves. It was clumsy, imperfect, everything she'd ever wanted.

Some time ago, he'd promised that their first time would be slow. But, as their lips parted and tongues found each other almost instantly, mingling with nothing but desperation and greed, she knew that concepts such as slowness and patience were not on the menu, at least not today.

It was like a dumb bursting, an avalanche crashing down the highest mountain. They had found each other, given each other some space, but now that it was starting, the only thing on her mind was _ take _ , _ take _ , _ take _. 

And, stars, did he give. His palms framed her face, her body pulled up so tightly to his Rey wasn't sure where she ended and he began. They were a shivering pile of fabric and limbs, caressing each other blindly, erratically.

She was starting to run out of air. She liked it that way. 

The dizziness added to it, the sheer frenzy of their mutual veneration, and there was something strangely soothing about being so disoriented with only his strong arms as support.

Her hands, still groping aimlessly, stumbled upon his belt. She tugged at it with a whimper, too frantic to do much else other than protest its existence, too consumed by his lips, soft as a cloud, to pull away. 

The belt broke. 

At least, Rey thought it did; the last thing she wanted was to open her eyes and stop. One moment she'd been grasping and pulling, the next she'd heard something snap. The wide belt tumbled into her palm, and she tossed it aside as Ben chuckled lightly against her lips. 

How he could find anything amusing was beyond her. Rey was in agony, burning up from the inside. 

The next thing she knew, she was on Ben's lap, straddling his waist. She _ ached _ for him, ached for him to draw nearer and deeper, and so her hips started moving on their own accord, propelled by some primal instinct. Desperate for friction, Rey grinded against him unabashedly, his hiss as she found him hard and wanting the sweetest noise she'd ever heard.

She could come from this alone, she thought, her underwear slippery wet. He probably could, too. Rey was all but riding him now, rubbing up and down against his straining erection with such momentum, such _ aggression _, it was as if she was punishing him for something.

And maybe she was. 

Every little noise he made, every tiny whine at the back of his throat that accompanied each thrust shot straight to her brain, fuelling her, making her do it _ harder _, and she was lost, so lost in the haze of him—

Then he pulled back, arresting her hips with his hands, physically holding her at bay. Ben was panting heavily, his eyes sparkling like a running river in the sunlight. 

"I think I've waited my whole life for you," he said hoarsely. 

She would kiss him, ruin him some more, if not for the way he was keeping her at arm's length. 

"I know," Rey breathed. "For as long as I can remember, I've always felt something. A ghost of a presence. I just didn't know that it was you—that _ you _ were my ghost."

Icy gales in the middle of a desert, flashes of fiery rage that woke her up from deep, peaceful sleep; he'd been there all along. Somewhere out there, living and breathing and not yet knowing how closely their destinies would intertwine.

"Okay," he said, taking a deep breath. "Okay."

His grip on her faltered, and when they found each other again, they'd regained just enough semblance of clear thought to undress, this time properly. 

He helped her out of her vest and shirt, undid her arm wrappings. She pulled his tunic and undershirt over his head. He slid her pants down her legs, fingers only slightly shaking. She did the same to him, her own touch surer, steadier. Her chest wrappings followed right after, and then they were left on their knees, wearing nothing but underwear, their arousal on full display for the other.

Something about Rey seemed to bring out Ben's patience. Something about Ben brought out the opposite in Rey. 

She pressed up against him, relishing the way his smooth, toned body slid against her skin. Her hands looped around his neck, her lips found his, and, with a gentleness she once thought he was unable to possess, he lowered her down onto the blanket.

It felt appropriate, the feeling of almost falling. Him holding her, and her trusting him not to let go. 

Then, he sat up and shook the flower out of his hair. She watched it fall, brows knitting in response. 

"Sorry," Ben murmured with a small, apologetic smile. "It was distracting."

"I'll make you a whole crown of them." 

A sweet promise framed as a threat. How very _ them _. 

"After," he said. "Whatever you want, after."

_ After _. 

Rey nodded. She was done with waiting. 

Nipping an incoming bout of self-consciousness in the bud, she shimmied her underwear down her thighs. From the angle he was in, there was nothing left for the imagination, and for a brief, dangerous second, he looked so genuinely taken-aback that Rey's cheeks started growing hot despite her best efforts to keep it cool. But then his gaze darkened, and he pulled the soaked cotton strip of fabric the rest of the way off. 

"You, now."

Maybe not the most eloquent of wording, but it was the best she could do at the moment. 

He understood.

What's more, he _ complied _, and— 

_ Oh _.

It wasn't like she hadn't seen it before, she _ had _. In fact, he'd all but brandished it for her before. But here, in broad daylight, almost at her eye level, with his cock pointing directly at her like a predator poised to strike, well— 

It felt more personal. Which, of course, it was.

Her thighs clenched from the mere thought of what was waiting ahead. 

And he _ saw _ it. 

Ben was a storm as he descended on her, kissing her into deep oblivion. The practice round they'd had a few days ago had done wonders; he knew where to touch her now, and how. The hitch of his breath upon finding her slick, so very slick for him, was almost as pleasurable as his touch, but he withheld from humoring her unspoken request, slipping in a finger instead.

Yes, it felt good, it felt _ amazing _ , and Rey canted happily against him as his cock poked at her stomach, leaving patches of something slippery in its wake. She knew what he was doing, knew that he was preparing her, but her fire burned bright, and the void inside her screamed to be filled to the brim right _ now _. She bucked her hips then, whining against his plush mouth. Ben nipped at her lip as if he'd been waiting for just that sound and added a second finger. 

"Soon," Ben crooned as he pressed closer, his hard cock twitching against her stomach. "A bit of patience, sweetheart."

He played her like an instrument, two fingers fucking her as his thumb circled her clit slowly, rhythmically. Rey gritted her teeth as pleasure started to build up with worrying speed. 

If he wanted to be that way, fine, she could ride his hand. She would come from it, too. In fact, a blooming warmth had already reached her chest, and every muscle in her body tensed because she was close, so unbelievably _ close— _

He withdrew his hand.

She was left teetering on the verge of an explosive orgasm, so near that a single touch would unravel her completely, but Ben—_ spread _her thighs apart, allowing no such thing.

"_ Why _?" she snarled. 

Rey felt like a wreck, lust and anger and confusion and affection all bleeding into one nameless, tumbling emotion. 

"I had to bring you down to my level somehow, didn't I?" Ben nudged his nose against her cheek, his voice breathless and hauntingly soft. "Rey, the only way you get to come today is around my cock."

It did things to her, the dichotomy between the gentle tone and filthy words. As he reached down and lined himself up against her entrance, she was rendered speechless—but only for a moment. 

"Very presumptuous of you," Rey told him, pressing her lips together. "Maybe I won't, now, just to spite you."

Their eyes locked as time itself seemed to freeze. She tried her best to keep it together, but they both—burst into laughter.

Having no point of reference, Rey couldn't tell whether this was normal, to laugh when she could feel the tip of his cock brushing against her slick. It probably wasn't. 

But it helped. Some of the tension eased, and her body relaxed by degrees. 

It gave him the green light to finally, _ finally _ push in. 

Rey sucked in a sharp breath, all coherent thought vanishing into thin air. 

Not too deep at first, not right away. He was testing the waters, scared to breach her limits too hard. But even with all the precautions, one thing was clear.

She'd been right. He could be a lot, both figuratively and literally. 

After pulling back ever so slightly, he thrust forward again, this time venturing deeper. It was heaven to him, she knew. A shadow of it reflected through the bond; a phantom pleasure at her tight, wet heat, growing stronger with each shallow thrust. 

The next one made him groan against her mouth.

But Rey herself wasn't there yet. She wished she was, that this thing would be as easy for her as it was for him from the very get-go. For the moment, she didn't feel much of anything save for an edge of surprisingly sharp pain. All the potential pleasure was lost in the sheer overwhelmingness of it all; it was like a thread flailing around in the wind she couldn't quite grasp. 

In a moment of clarity, Rey realized she was making sounds again. Not the lewd moaning one would expect, but short, distressed whines. Ben quirked his head up, eyes flashing with worry. 

He took it upon himself to shush her, murmuring a gentle stream of encouragement against her lips as he continued working his way in. He told, over and over again, to breathe, that she was doing so well, that she felt perfect, that she _ was _ perfect— 

Rey listened to him, letting the rich timbre of his voice guide her through it. Like a current, it carried her to a safe place where time lost all meaning, and the pain faded to a dim, far-away glow. 

When she opened her eyes again, he was sheathed fully inside, reaching deeper than she'd thought possible.

It was as if everything clicked into place all at once. 

There was no other way to describe but a cosmic sense of rightness, a new-found energy that coursed through them like they were one.

Holding himself above her, Ben exhaled deeply. His brow was furrowed in concentration, eyes only fluttering open when Rey touched his cheek. She thought she caught a glimpse of a suspicious sheen, but then he blinked, and it was gone. 

"I'm glad it's you," Rey said. "I really am."

A whole stream of words began to pour from his lips, "I never thanked you. I've made so many mistakes, taken so many wrong turns, but you—forgave me and challenged me and showed me that—" 

She silenced him with a bruising kiss. 

"Hush, no more of that. Ever." The corners of her mouth quirked up. "_ Stupid _."

They were laughing again. Maybe this was to become their thing even if it _ was _ weird: running their mouths and having a laugh, fighting and fucking. Everything about them was a beautiful contradiction.

Her legs locked more firmly around his waist. All traces of discomfort were now gone, replaced with a snug fullness that made every slightest movement reverberate through her body. 

"It's okay." It was her turn to spur him on. "It's good now, you're good. You can move."

She didn't have to tell him twice.

It took just a single, experimental roll of hips to make her feel like something inside her had caught on fire. Her breath hitched in her throat. She knew right then that there was no coming back anymore.

Not from this, not from him, not ever. 

He was trembling with restraint. It was behind every thrust of his hips, the self-control that he was desperately clinging to. 

_ Don't hurt her, don't hurt her, _ he kept thinking to himself, repeating it like a prayer, and Rey _ heard _ it because like this, with their bodies entangled, his thoughts were as good as her own. He marveled at the friction, the way she clenched around his cock; she was an even tighter fit than he'd ever dared to dream. 

This was also how she found about the contraceptive implant he'd requested in his last physical. 

Good. It solved a problem she'd been too frenzied to even consider.

"So irresponsible." Even in the middle of _ this _, he couldn't help himself, having caught her train of thought. "I wonder what your Resistance friends would say if they knew how wet I make you, how desperately you crave my—"

Rey canted her body. Their hips collided with an obscene, wet sound, the sensation akin to an electric shock that made them both gasp. The fire in the pit of her stomach roared, the blood in her veins buzzed with the surge of fresh arousal, and it was clear, now, what she had to do.

She was meeting him thrust for thrust, urging him on with murmured pleas, pulling his hair, arching her back; everything, anything, to go faster and harder.

At some point, it got too much for him, and Ben buried his face in the crook of her neck, covering the sensitive skin with sloppy kisses. 

It added to the myriad of sensations, overwhelming in all the right ways. She felt like a volcano on the verge of an eruption, a natural disaster that destroyed everything in its wake and scorched a path for something new.

He grew vicious, grabbing her thigh and holding it up so he could reach a spot so deep it made her ears ring. A sound tore from her throat, helpless and ecstatic, but there was safety in letting it out here, where it could fly off into the air like birds. 

In a brief relapse into clarity, it struck her how normal the two of them must have looked from the outside. With all their identifying marks gone, lightsabers buried underneath a pile of clothing, if someone were to pass them by—which, thankfully, was not the case—they would only see two, nondescript lovers.

Rey had never considered that word for them. 

Lovers. 

Their relationship was always too confusing, feelings too messy, circumstances too complicated. But, stripped of all else, she was free to call them that.

She was free to do whatever she wanted. 

"I got you, Rey, " Ben murmured against her neck, words coming out muffled. "Let go; let go around me, I want to feel it, _ please _..."

He sneaked a hand where their bodies connected, the sudden burst of pleasure as his fingers found her clit making her jolt against him. It was too much, all too much, building higher and higher until she couldn't see anymore, until everything but him disappeared.

There was always a certain kind of inevitability to them. They were a star that collapsed into a spectacular explosion, its waves rippling across the galaxy. That was what it felt like when she let go, when pleasure ripped through her entire body in a violent flash of light. 

She convulsed around him senselessly as his ragged breathing cracked and turned a desperate groan, and just when Rey was beginning to come down from her monumental high, she could feel warmth splashing deep inside of her. 

The intoxicating joy of him losing himself in her, losing his control, was almost enough to trigger a second orgasm. 

Almost.

They clung to each other through the aftershocks, reluctant to let go even as their trembling subsided and breathing steadied. He'd collapsed on top of her, arms finally giving out, but it was, as Rey discovered, a good weight. One she could stand to bear for a while longer. 

There was no rush, really. They had nowhere to go.

Rey raked a hand through his damp hair as a gentle breeze cooled their heated flesh. She could feel the rapid beating of his heart, how it slowed with her each touch. His cock was still buried inside her, growing softer by the moment; she could feel _ that _, too. 

Gazing up at the patches of blue sky that peeked through the branches, her mind was the most pleasant and silent void. 

It was only when he rolled over on his back that she broke the silence.

"I was wondering..." She surprised herself with the casual tone of her voice. "You've researched Force bonds, right? How they work?" 

Like her just moments prior, he was staring up at the canopy, hands tucked behind his head. Sunlight shimmered through the leaves, covering his sculpted body with dancing rays of light. 

"I tried to. But even the archives barely had anything. It's a—rare phenomenon, if you can believe it."

"How rare?"

His lips, red and swollen, quirked. "Very rare."

"Come on, don't tell me you didn't pore over every scrap of writing that as much as mentioned it in passing," Rey said as she pushed herself up on her elbow. "There has to be more to it than that."

Ben turned his head, expression equal parts amusement and disbelief. "Really? Is ancient Jedi lore what you want to discuss right now? Bit of a strange topic for pillow talk, even for you."

"Weird. As far as I can tell, there's not a pillow in sight," she retorted with an air of haughtiness, "so I have _ no _ clue what you mean."

He chuckled at that, a pure sunlight of a sound, then stretched out his arm. Rey complied with the unspoken request, snuggling up against his chest happily as a large, warm hand went to graze her bare thigh. 

They'd only made it a minute without physical contact. Rey tucked the worrisome thought away for later.

Everything was _ wet _, almost sticky from the various bodily liquids dispelled, but both were long past caring. It wasn't anything a shower wouldn't fix. Better yet, a shared shower. 

Now _ that _ was a good thought. 

"A bond can form between any two Force sensitives. Nobody knows why. Just like with anything regarding the Force, it just—happens," Ben explained. "Though, most commonly, it's between a Master and a Padawan."

Rey let the information simmer for a while. 

"So what you're saying," she ventured, "is that all the known instances are of platonic relationships?"

"The nature of the relationship has no bearing on anything."

"But it's true, right?" Her fingers ghosted over a cluster of birthmarks by his right pectoral. "I mean, a Master and a Padawan—it can't get any more platonic than that. Especially with the whole _ no attachments _ thing."

"I—I suppose so." She could almost _ hear _ his confused frown. "What are you getting at?"

"That we might be trailblazers, Ben," Rey said, a smile growing on her lips. "Think about it; if it's truly as rare as you say, we might be the first people to ever discover the pleasures of Force-bonded sex."

There was a pause, after which his chest began to shake with another fit of laughter.

"You—" he snorted. "You might be right. Look at us, charting new territory."

His skin was warm, so delightfully warm against her lips. "Trailblazers, I tell you."

"Never thought this would be how I go down in history."

"Not the worst legacy to leave behind."

Their bond glowed gold with unadulterated affection, looping and wrapping around them like a humming string. Rey wished she could freeze time. She wouldn't mind spending a soft eternity in his arms, forever basking in the afterglow. The tree would always sway in the gentle wind, the air would always smell of fresh flowers, and they would be here, snug and content and needing nothing. 

* * *

It was somehow both the longest and shortest day of her life.

How they managed to do so much while barely doing anything was anyone's guess. 

They had their picnic under the tree, donning just enough clothing so that if someone were to see them, the pair would only be labeled as 'somewhat disrespectful' instead of 'completely indecent'. Ben complained about Rey only bringing snacks and _ way _ too much chocolate for two people. Rey brushed him off by insisting that they were celebrating, wanting to hear no more on the matter.

Ben didn't ask what they were celebrating. 

Rey was secretly glad about it. She wasn't quite sure yet either.

She made him that promised flower crown later. Woven entirely out of bright blue poppies, she took her time with it. The result of her labor looked so stunning in his dark hair that, for the rest of the day, Rey had trouble looking at him without breaking into a wide grin.

"I was expecting you to get a crown, what with the—you know—promotion," she said to him as they wandered aimlessly through a nearby forest where the mossy ground glistened with a myriad of tiny, silver streams.

"It's not a hereditary monarchy," he answered with a smile that seemed a bit sour. "No crowns."

Rey hurled a twig into the nearest brook, and they both watched as it got whisked away by the current. "Better late than never, I suppose."

Fingers intertwined, they meandered to nowhere in particular and talked about nothing in particular. 

Rey told him about the desert flowers she'd kept in her AT-AT, the names they'd given to each of them. About how, at nights, the nightbloomers would fill her abode with a deep, sweet scent that seeped into her dreams. 

Ben told her about the time when he'd been left alone in their family's house in Chandrila; apparently, a kitchen droid had malfunctioned and tried to cut his head off, though it only managed to get a few knicks in before the glitch corrected itself and its system returned to normal. He said that he was too young to remember it himself, but that this particular instance was a favorite weaponized hot potato in every one of his parents' fights. They would argue, over and over again, about how the other spends too little time with their son. 

Rey didn't want to know, but she had to ask, "How old were you?" 

"Two," he answered so casually they could have been discussing the weather.

They changed the topic quickly after that.

Night came all too fast. They'd managed to spend the whole day chatting and enjoying each other's company. At times, Rey felt a pang of guilt because the sun was dipping ever lower to the horizon, the sky was turning into a deep shade of blood red, and they _ still _hadn't brought up the one topic they needed to discuss. She knew he felt it too, that the bolt of anxiety shot through them both, but there was always another story, another picturesque spot to get to. 

Apparently, they had time for everything except for _ that _.

Here, amongst the clouds, there was an odd disconnect she hadn't anticipated. It was hard to care about anything that wasn't right in front of her eyes. And since Ben was right there by her side, proudly wearing the flower crown, she shoved the nagging, intrusive thoughts as far down as she could.

Her one and only disappointment of the day came when she stumbled into the ship's 'fresher. It was one of the sonic ones that didn't require water, so narrow it looked more like a standing coffin than the spacious lap of luxury she'd secretly hoped for. 

Rey had never washed up faster.

Whether it was the lack of sleep the night before, the long day of fresh air or the altitude, Rey didn't know, but when exhaustion hit, it hit _ hard _. One moment she putting her clothes back on, the next she could barely keep her eyes open, mouth almost constantly gaping in a series of never-ending yawns.

She barely made her way to the captain's quarters, collapsing face down on top of the wide bunk. Distantly, through the sleep-thick fog, she registered the deep rumble of Ben's voice, and she murmured a soft sound of acknowledgment without hearing what he said. When the mattress didn't dip under his weight like she'd expected, Rey realized he'd gone to wash up himself.

It wouldn't do to fall asleep without at least waiting up on him, so she used the last vestiges of her strength to keep her eyes from falling shut—for too long at a time. 

Thankfully, she didn't have to suffer long. He came back just a few minutes later, and Rey forced herself to roll on her back. Though Rey's lids were heavy with sleep, all it took was one shared glance to reach an unspoken agreement. 

They stripped quickly and silently. Rey had never been one to sleep in the nude, but she had a feeling it would feel different with someone to cuddle up with.

It was.

Even through the soft haze, she could appreciate how perfectly he could curl around her, how her very blood hummed in contentment upon the rich contact of their skin. Her back was pressed to his chest, his arm locked tight around her waist, and she—found herself fighting through her exhaustion. 

Her mind may not have been the clearest, but Rey had enough sense to recognize that she'd had the privilege of experiencing a near-perfect day. 

One that would end the moment she closed her eyes.

Ben had begun pressing languid, warm kisses against her shoulder. There was something about the way he did it, the way he seemed to linger on her skin for just a heartbeat too long. 

There was an edge of sadness to it. 

Rey turned on her back to gaze up at him, eyes glinting with an unspoken question. 

"I have to leave tomorrow," he explained, voice barely above a whisper. "I've already stayed for too long."

"Oh."

The sound, so tiny and frail, was swallowed up by the heavy silence that stretched into the night. Something hot and serrated had lodged inside Rey's chest, growing so large it got hard for her to breathe. 

"No, don't—" he choked out, then took a deep breath. "Can we talk about this in the morning? I'm tired, too."

They both knew that they were only delaying the inevitable, but Rey gave in regardless. It was late, and they were both exhausted.

She didn't know what tomorrow would bring, but all that mattered was that tonight she could sleep peacefully, knowing that he would be there to hold her. That, like with the scent of her flowers, she could carry his reassuring warmth into her dreams. That he would be there when she woke up.

Just for tonight, it was enough.

  
  
  



	17. Chapter 17

Rey was slow to crack open her eyes. 

There were no viewports in the captain's quarters, no way to tell the time, but her head felt fuzzy and heavy with sleep. 

She'd had an excellent night's rest.

How could she not? Ben didn't hold her, no, he _ clutched _ her frame, keeping her pressed to his chest like a child would their favorite stuffed toy. She welcomed it. Thanks to him, her dreams had been a shapeless mass of shifting colors, abstract enough to give her tired mind a well-deserved break.

But she was awake now—more or less—and he wasn't, his breathing, so deep and steady, tickling the back of her neck. 

Rey slowly wiggled her way around to face him. It was no easy task; the grip on her waist was as strong as iron. But her curiosity was stronger. Somehow, she managed to pry his hand loose, and with a small, disgruntled mumble, Ben rolled onto his back, giving her the freedom to study him as much as she pleased.

His hair was in disarray, a few dark strands spilling across his face while others stuck out in all sorts of unruly directions. He would look like a wild thing, one fresh off a fight, if it weren't for the expression of profound calm that was as rare a sight on him as clothes in colors other than black. 

Gently, she brushed the hair away from his face.

Rey felt stupid for even thinking it, but she already missed him—missed _ this _. The fact that, for them, a full night together was an exception and not the norm was tearing her heart in half. 

And he was still _ here _. 

She _ was _ being stupid, Rey decided. Pining over him, wasting the precious time they had by lamenting a separation that was yet to happen. It wouldn't do.

If their time had all but ran out, she would make these last vestiges count. 

After all, resourcefulness had always been one of her strengths. 

Her lips found his neck. Propelled by the momentum of her waning frustration, the kisses came out angrier than she'd intended, her mouth digging deep into his supple skin.

He woke up with a small start, chest jumping as he sucked in a breath. His Force signature stirred to life with him, going from dormant to flooding the room like a ray of light that had sprung out from behind a cloud. Rey went on unperturbed, nibbling at the column of his throat insistently until he melted back into a relaxed state. 

She felt him stretch underneath her—or _ try _ to stretch, what with her partially sprawled on top of him. His palm found the small of her back, stroking at it with languid touches that were so strikingly free from their usual urgency. 

"I could get used to being woken up like this."

The gruffness in his voice was thick enough to make her spine tingle.

"Good morning to you too," Rey said as she nuzzled up underneath his ear. 

"How about I sneak you onboard the Finalizer?" he rasped half-teasingly, palm sliding lower to caress the soft slope of her ass. It was downright unfair, how far he could reach without even trying. "No one would have to know. I'd keep you in my quarters—keep you in my _ bed _. We could do this every day."

"Hmmm," Rey pretended to think it over before sucking a small bruise into his skin. "_ No _."

He hissed, fingers digging into her curves, and the surge of his arousal swept through the Force like a hot, crashing wave. 

Some punishment that turned out to be.

As she was quickly discovering, sleeping naked had been an ingenious decision—a true rarity between the two of them. Rey surfaced and straddled his waist, shamelessly coating his skin with her slick in the process. Not that it bothered him. 

Judging by his demeanor, he wouldn't mind if she snatched his lightsaber and tossed it off a cliff; that was how tenderly he was gazing up at her, heavy-lidded eyes blinking with sluggishness more fitting to a plump lothcat. 

"Hi," he said, the beginnings of a dopey smile stretching across his lips. 

She couldn't help but smile back. "Hi."

If yesterday was a frenzy of desperate grabbing and fiery impatience all wrapped in sunlight, today was the opposite. Under the dim glow of ambient light panels, barely enough to see each other in the shadows, Ben didn't as much as stir. 

He was waiting. Letting her decide how to proceed.

There was something to it, being on top of him like that. A strange power in having subdued this mountain of a man, someone who could snap her in two like a twig, to the point where she could do whatever she pleased with him. To take whatever she wanted as he gave, so open and pliable and willing.

Her mind reeled with all the possibilities. There were so many things she wanted to try; way too many for a single morning session, unfortunately. 

She opted for starting with the basics.

Moving down his body, Rey rearranged herself to mount his thigh. The friction was good, just what her body was craving. Ben—Force bless him—must have been under the impression that this was to be his purpose for the time being, drawing his leg up to give her more of what she needed with no objections. 

But this wasn't the only thing she had in mind. Rey then pulled the covers down, reached out and— 

Jaw clenched, he made a sound, so sensitive from the lightest, most tentative touch as his cock twitched against her curious fingers. For a second, something close to panic flickered on his face, eventually settling on subdued awe as she ran her palm along his length, her hips lightly rolling against his thigh on their own accord.

"Like this?" she asked, mimicking the way she'd seen him touch himself that one time, and Ben gritted out a noise that sounded vaguely like approval. 

Except that her version was an interpretation rather than a straight-out copy. She remembered it very clearly; the scene was probably seared into her eyelids forever. How he'd gone about it was like he was trying to self-flagellate rather than pleasure himself. She wouldn't do that to him, no. When she stroked him, it was slow, but not with the intent to tease. 

Rey thought he deserved a gentle touch. If he wasn't willing to do it, she would. 

The way his abdominal muscles tensed was thrilling to her very core, his hands, with Rey just out of reach, clenched at his sides. There was definitely power in this. Each measured flick of her wrist made him come apart further, all that exquisite, fluid strength of his body unraveling at the seams while she made a complete mess of his thigh. 

"Did you know," Rey said, the words rolling off her tongue like honey, "that you're really quite beautiful?"

It wasn't the kind of thing that was said about men often, but she felt a bit drunk on a mix of lust and power and something that made her heart swell in her chest. It felt important, somehow, that he knew.

"I, uh—thank you. You're beautiful too—ngh—so incredibly beautiful, my beautiful scavenger—" Ben's babbling trailed off as he, overcome with pleasure, arched his back. "Can you—harder, Rey."

It looked like he was in pain, so she acquiesced, squeezing down on him just a bit harder, a bit faster. Rey only let go of him for a moment, when a bead of clear liquid seeped from the plush head of his cock. Oddly transfixed, she swiped it away with her thumb. 

His reaction was—severe.

He thrust into her palm as a strangled moan tore from his throat, hands grasping and rumpling the black silk sheets. 

So sensitive to the barest brush of her fingers. So endearingly responsive.

The message was loud and clear, then. She needed to invest more time into touching him _ there _. Fascinating, the process of discovery. She wanted to learn everything about him, explore it all, but— 

Mentally swatting the intrusive thought away like she would a fly, Rey refocused on the task at hand.

Coordination was getting more difficult by the second. She was all but sliding on his thigh now, the sparks of pleasure glowing brighter as she grew wetter. A thin coat of sweat cooled her back while from the inside, she was a hungry inferno. 

Something as simple as sitting upright was quickly becoming a chore; Rey pressed her free arm up against his stomach to maintain balance. In an instant, his palm wrapped around her wrist, long fingers reverently stroking every inch of her skin that was within reach as if it was too much for him, like Rey was the rod that would channel his lightning to safety.

"Is there—Rey, do you want me to do something?" he ground out. Letting her take the reins was taking a toll on him, she knew. Every part of his body had gone taut under the strain—which made it all the more enjoyable not to hand them back to him.

She shook her head without a hitch in her rhythm, loose strands of hair cascading along her flushed face. "Sit back. Enjoy it while it lasts."

He was canting his hips with shallow, ragged breaths, quite literally forcing her hand into a faster pace. Her wrist had begun to ache, but the pain was, ultimately, just a blip on the radar in comparison to everything else. The mounting relief that she was both giving and receiving. The pleasure that sparked ever hotter and made her clench around nothing. 

His cock was leaking more precome, the slippery substance allowing for a smoother glide across his hard, throbbing length.

"Rey—" The words were squeezed through his tightly clenched teeth. "Climb on my cock. Please, I'm so close. I need—want to come inside you, _ please _—"

An excellent idea. One of his best.

Whether it was because of the new angle, what they'd done yesterday or a combination of the two, she didn't know. But today was a bright new day, and, as she sank down on his eager cock, her body showed a lot less resistance. 

He went still underneath her, waiting with bated breath while Rey worked him in, her palms splayed against his chest and brow furrowed. Making sure not to hurt herself, she took it slow, and in no time at all, he was buried all the way to the hilt. 

There it was again, that overwhelming sense of fullness that swelled all the way up to her throat. It was cruel, so cruel, how well the two of them fit together. How their bodies seemed to have been designed with the specific purpose of challenging each other, and, in the process, bringing them to the sweetest of breaking points.

All her caution was thrown to the wind the moment she began to move. It hit like an electric shock. Keeping her eyes locked with his, she rode boldly, the roll of her hips so confident it surprised her as much as it did him. His jaw gone slack, Ben met her thrust for thrust. The only constant in the growing chaos of her body was the heavy beating of her heart against her ribs. The rest was a daze, and she surrendered to it gladly and completely. 

The next thing she knew, she'd tilted forward, their fingers intertwined in a gesture that seemed almost too sweet for what they were doing, and this slanted angle—it made him hit a spot so deep and new that her vision started to swim before her eyes, again and again until she was on the verge of bursting. 

"You keep saying that I'm yours," Rey heard herself say, barely recognizing her own voice. "But it's a two-way street. You're mine, too, Ben. You always will be—"

She thought she saw him nod frantically, but it was hard to tell for sure, because it was at that moment when the world itself seemed to crumble to pieces around her, and she was falling, ever falling into his waiting arms. 

The orgasm was rough, taking her by surprise. It crashed senselessly into her like an angry wave, so strong it knocked the air out of her lungs. She writhed and squirmed against him as he hit his peak, the warmth—his warmth—that blossomed inside of her sizzling through her veins like fireworks. 

His final thrusts up into her were shallow, a last-ditch effort to drag the pleasure out for as long as possible. To postpone the inevitable end where they'd have to get up, put on some clothes and go their separate ways.

Slowly, their harsh breathing ebbed and the bedroom lapsed into silence. They were both washed safely ashore, boneless but otherwise unharmed. Holding each other. Sharing a heartbeat. 

The afterglow clung to her skin like heat after a day spent in sunlight, and neither dared to speak.

A few long, perfect minutes passed. When Rey opened her eyes, her vision was still frosted over and blurry. She wiped the moisture away without saying a word. 

If Ben noticed, he didn't comment on it. 

But there was no mistaking the sound of his deep sigh, rising and falling in his chest.

* * *

"When?"

Rey listlessly fiddled with her fork, swirling the fruit around the container. 

Ben didn't answer right away and lifted the cup of caf to his lips. Surprising absolutely no one, he took it black. "When what?"

She must have jabbed at the piece of orange too hard as it split into two pulpy lumps. "When are you leaving?"

Another small sip.

"You're moping, Rey."

There was nothing accusatory about the way he said it, his tone impassive like he was stating a fact. Somehow, that annoyed her even more. 

"Just wanted to know, that's all," she murmured. "You don't have to be an ass about it."

They were back where they began, having a very late breakfast on the cliff's ledge that overlooked the valley. It turned out that they'd slept in hard; when the ruffled pair finally emerged from the ship, the sun was high in the crystal blue skies. Not that she paid much, if any, attention to the frustratingly nice weather. Her eyes were downcast, fixed on the fruity mush she'd made. 

Her stomach turned, all the appetite gone, and she put the container down. The rocky surface was warm and sun-kissed, so nice to touch. 

She folded her hands into her lap. 

"Rey, I don't _ want _ to go. You know that, right?"

"I know."

His stare was searing, piercing her profile like an arrow. 

She ignored it as best as she could.

"It's been nice, pretending that we're normal people, but it's just a dream. If there was a way we could keep this up without the galaxy ending up in shambles, _ any _ way—" 

"Yes, Ben, I know. It's not in the stars for us, I get it." Rey turned her head, finding Ben's strained face a lot closer than she'd expected. "Do me a favor, will you? Let me leave first. I—don't want to see your ship take off."

The muscle underneath his eye twitched.

She didn't look away. 

The inner battle that raged within him was palpable, some traces of it flickering across his features. A nervous tick here, a sympathetic twitch there, she saw it all. Rey hadn't meant to say what she'd said with any kind of ulterior motive, it was the honest truth. 

If there was one thing that scared her more than anything, haunted both her daydreams and nightmares alike, it was watching someone she cared about deeply fly off without her. Leaving her stranded.

Alone.

"I—I'm not leaving _ quite _ yet," he finally added.

Nodding slightly, she turned her attention to the valley. "Then neither am I."

With that, the conversation dwindled. The silence wasn't the same as yesterday's, so full of promise and hidden excitement. This one felt sourer, tinged with a longing for something that already passed. 

Rey merely sat and listened to Ben finishing up his caf, the warbling of birds, the distant roar of waterfalls, and— 

The sound was faint, so faint it could be mistaken for the rustle of leaves. It emanated from someplace below, someplace hidden from view by all the thick foliage, bits and pieces of it carried up by the wind.

"Is that—" Rey blinked, not quite believing her own ears. "Is that _ music _?"

As if on cue, the sound died down. Judging from the confused look on Ben's face, he hadn't caught it, but the pair stayed on alert, leaning slightly forward. Rey was almost ready to give up, to write the whole off as a hitch in her sullen brain, when she heard it again, this time clearer.

It was definitely music, so distant it had to be coming from one of the villages, trumpets and flutes surging, and drums that marked the melody's thundering heartbeat, and _ laughter. _Far-away, chiming laughter that echoed its way up to them.

"I wonder what they're celebrating," Ben said, mildly taken aback. 

"I have no idea." They'd spent a full day here without running into anyone, artist or otherwise. With how isolated this plateau was, it was almost easy to believe that this applied to the whole planet. Which, of course, wasn't the case, and the proof was sounding across the treetops right now. "Sure sounds like they're having a good time, though. Maybe this is some sort of a holiday? You've been here before, do they have any customary—"

She could see the exact moment something clicked in his mind. His features softened infinitesimally.

"The signing of the Galactic Concordance," he muttered, more to himself than Rey. Then he seemed to remember she was there, too. "The peace treaty that ended the Galactic Civil War."

"You mean when the Empire officially surrendered?" Rey frowned. "I didn't know people celebrated that."

The corners of his mouth quirked up.

"They don't. Not every year. But today—" It looked like he was in on some private joke with himself. "Today is its thirtieth anniversary."

Rey felt like she was missing some vital piece of information and studied his face for clues. Ben had pressed his lips together, trying to quell his obvious amusement. Whatever it was that he found so funny, however, he didn't divulge to her.

"It's also highly illegal, what they're doing," he added wryly, after a pause.

"I bet."

His glinting eyes roamed the scenery. "If the First Order caught wind of this, they'd all be in a world of trouble. Sympathizing with the New Republic is a punishable offense."

Truth be told, she hadn't expected to do much smiling today, but something about his inexplicable excitement lifted her spirits despite herself. She chewed on her lip while a plan was brewing in her mind.

"We should go down there and investigate," Rey said, choosing her words carefully. "Just to make sure they _ aren't _ doing what we think they're doing, of course."

An opportunity to spend a few more precious hours together had just been handed to them on a silver platter. It was too good to pass up.

Or so she hoped. 

For a precious second, his smile teetered, then split into a full grin. 

"Of course," he played along. "It's our duty to, uh, make sure everything's in order."

Relieved, she looked him over from head to toe. With a bit of luck, they could blend in with the crowd unnoticed. She wasn't wearing anything that gave away her ties to the Resistance, and while she found it hard to judge Ben objectively, she thought he could pass for a commoner, maybe a rogue, _ yes _, a rogue, quite easily. 

Since the belt of his tunic had suffered a tragic accident, he'd opted just for his undershirt, a black henley that was by far the loosest piece of clothing she'd ever seen on him. If not for the lightsaber, now clipped to the waistband of his pants, nobody would as much as bat an eye at him.

"I think it's clear that we're no artists, so if anyone asks, we're on our honeymoon," she added.

His response was immediate. "We would never have our honeymoon on Kiros. There are far more suited planets out there. Naboo, I think, you'd like, or Endor, or—" 

"Interesting, quite interesting. You've clearly thought about this," Rey drawled, nodding along in faux-seriousness. "By the way, which planets have the best schools? We should probably take that into account before we settle somewhere permanently. I've heard some good things about Brentaal IV, but I'm open to suggestions."

He opened his mouth to answer, closing it when he noticed Rey shaking with held-back laughter. Eyes aflame, he cupped her face, pressing a rough kiss to her lips. 

"You're mocking me."

Now she _ was _ laughing. "Me? I would _ never _."

* * *

They didn't depart right away. 

Rey's appetite was back with a vengeance, and even when all her fruit was gone, they drew the meal out by chatting about nothing in particular. When they weren't discussing politics or bygone Skywalker drama, Ben was surprisingly easy to talk to. There was a whole other side of him that almost never got the chance to see the light of day, the side that got excited about myths and legends, and sparkled with joy when he talked about the modifications he'd installed in his starfighters. 

More and more she caught glimpses of him, the real him buried deep beneath a mountain of generational trauma. 

And he had a way with her too; there was something about how he listened to her, patient and attentive, hanging onto her every word without interrupting. Letting her ramble about whatever came into her mind. She felt heard by him. 

Heard—and seen.

She could spend more, so much more time with him.

But they'd have to make do with the few remaining hours.

The ship Rey arrived with was the farthest thing from inconspicuous. Her large, ominous bird of prey was designed for intimidation, not stealth, so they decided to take Ben's. His sleek TIE, as they agreed, would be perfect for maneuvering around trees. They could hide it behind some thicket, far from any prying eyes. In fact, it was so small that—

Her brow furrowed as she watched him jump in. "Ben… There's only one seat."

He flashed a devious smile from the cockpit and extended a hand. 

It looked _ so _ right. 

"I'm sure we'll figure something out."

That something turned out to be his lap. Very cushiony and warm as far as seats went, if a little demeaning. 

"Right." She took stock of the controls, steadfastly ignoring the thick waves of smug satisfaction that practically oozed from his Force signature. "I'm piloting, then."

"No. It's my ship."

"And I'm the one who can actually see the viewport so suck it up."

"I can see just fine," he protested. "Now let me—"

She batted his hand away from the control panel, pulling the auxiliary power switch. The starship began to thrum and purr like it couldn't wait to take off. 

Rey knew the feeling well. 

"Every joy comes with a small sacrifice," she muttered as she grabbed the control yoke. "You give and you take. A true balance."

With a small sigh, he propped his chin on her shoulder. It was more than a little distracting, but the distance they had to cover was meager enough to—hopefully—avoid accidents.

And maybe there was a small and prickling part of her whispering that they were delaying the inevitable.

But Rey paid it no mind.

They were, after all, two normal people who had a celebration to attend. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have noticed, I increased the chapter count by one, otherwise Chapter 17 would be deviously long and you’d have to wait a *long* time.  
In other news, I survived April Fools’ and only got pranked once (the one benefit of quarantine)! I consider that a success, pranks irrationally annoy me for some reason.  
Hope you’re all safe and sound. 💕


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, hello, how’s everyone doing? ❤️  
It just occurred to me that I never thanked you guys for reaching a thousand kudos, which is what I should’ve done in the last one!! So here it goes: thank you, everyone! You’ve been the most incredible source of motivation and inspiration, and I never would’ve made it this far without your support. Fun fact! The first few chapters were written as a writing exercise for myself; I only published them on a whim, but I’m so glad that I did! And I’m also glad that many of you have enjoyed this journey, too. <3

For an artists' colony as modest as Kiros, its main village sure was crowded. 

The principal street was a bustling river of people, its banks littered with dozens of wooden carts and stalls. Rey's eyes flitted around it all in wonder; art supplies ranging from intimidating brush sets to cans of paint that glittered a different color depending on the angle, empty canvases in every size imaginable—and filled ones, too. Many of the vendors were selling their own art, rows upon rows of neatly arranged paintings on display for the slow-moving stream of passers-by.

And through it all—through the shifting colors, noise, and movement—Ben's hand was a steady presence, locked firmly with hers.

"I don't get it," Rey murmured to him as they stopped by a stall selling odd-looking artwork. "It looks like someone tripped and spilled their paint."

When he didn't answer, she turned her attention to him, finding him glaring at the strips of streamers that stretched overhead, the small, triangular flags webbing between the buildings on either side of the street and fluttering happily in the wind. The streamers were, unsurprisingly, blue and yellow.

The New Republic colors.

"A bold choice," he muttered in a clipped tone. "Didn't think they'd be so openly defiant."

Rey sighed. "Not everything is a personal slight against you, Ben. Now give me your thoughts on these."

With visible reluctance, he tore his gaze from the streamers. As his eyes swept over the vibrant canvases in front of them, his lips twitched. 

"I take it you don't like them?"

"It's just _ color _ ," Rey said, scrunching her nose. "Splotches of color. And look how expensive they are; a single painting is a year and a half's worth of portions. It's _ morbid _."

Ben blew out a breath through his nose. "Abstract art is more about how it makes you feel rather than what it looks like."

"I can't believe you're defending it."

"I'm not," he warmly assured her. "I hate it, too."

"Can I help you?" A woman had just emerged from behind the display, eyeing them both with excitement. 

Rey plastered on what she hoped was an airy smile as Ben's grip on her tightened. "We're just browsing, thanks!"

The woman nodded empathetically, glancing down at their clasped hands.

"My, aren't the two of you cute," she crooned. "I get a distinctive opposites-attract vibe when I look at you, very sunlight and moonlight, or maybe—" She paused and narrowed her eyes in thought. "_ Yes _. A turbulent sea reflecting a clear night's sky. Simple, yet dramatic."

"Who's the sky and who's the sea?" Ben asked. 

With how he'd schooled his features, it was impossible to tell if he was genuinely curious or just acting polite.

The artist winked at him. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Rey did not like that one bit. 

She was about to drag Ben onwards to forcibly put an end to their small-talk, when the artist spoke again, rooting her to the ground. 

"Not from around here, I presume?" 

Her heart skipped a beat. "Is it that obvious?"

"Well—" she laughed and nodded at Ben. "_ You _ are giving it away, I'm afraid. We only ever wear black for funerals here."

"I see," he said pensively. "Though, if you think about it, there's always a funeral out there somewhere."

The artist chuckled, shaking her head. Rey wondered if the woman would be this at ease if she knew who she was speaking with. In fact, this all had to feel a bit jarring for Ben as well; who knows how long it had been since he'd been able to blend in with the crowds, to speak with people at random, unrecognized and unfeared. She tried to gauge it through the Force, but came up blank; she'd have better luck trying to hear a pin drop from the other side of a crowded room.

Too much interference. 

"So what brings you here, business or pleasure?"

The corners of Ben's mouth quirked. "Honeymoon, actually."

"No kidding!" she clasped her hands excitedly. "Congratulations! You know what, I can knock a hundred credits off if you're interested. Look here—" She walked up to her paintings, the same ones Rey wouldn't be caught dead owning, and proudly lifted her arms. "These are from my newest series titled _ The Resistance _. I tried to capture the essence of fighting a faceless evil; see how the blue is almost swallowed by all the fiery orange? A hopeful brook against the inferno of oppression— "

_ Oh no. _

She didn't have to look at him to know he'd freezed. 

"It was lovely talking to you, take care!" Rey tossed over her shoulder, pulling Ben into the moving current of a crowd before he could make a scene. They let it carry them forwards and surfaced a good way down the street, finding refuge in a small, empty alley tucked between a portrait artist and a stall selling dainty calligraphy tools.

With a sigh, she leaned against the brick wall as Ben crossed his arms.

"That was—awkward."

"I wouldn't have said anything," he said tightly. "I'm well aware what the public opinion is, you don't have to treat me like a child over it."

"You were just glowering at those poor streamers like they've caught the plague," she couldn't help but bite back. "Sorry for trying not to blow our cover."

A long pause followed as they stared at each other, saying nothing. It was particularly grating because they were wasting what precious little time they had left, but Rey didn't feel like budging. 

And neither did he.

"You will never belong with them," Ben finally said. "You're lying to yourself if you think you do."

Out of all the places she'd expected to have this conversation, a quiet alleyway in an otherwise noisy festival was, without a doubt, not high on the list, but she'd make do. 

"You don't belong where you are, either," she countered. "If I'm lying, then you're just as guilty of doing the same thing—but for much longer."

Working his jaw, he took a step forward, nearly crowding her against the wall. 

"What was your sales pitch?" he asked, searching her eyes. 

"My what?" Rey blinked.

"Your sales pitch. Surely you had a whole speech planned. To turn me."

It was true; she'd done nothing but plan all the ways this conversation could spiral as she'd made her way to Kiros. That was until he'd joined her, and all her plans had scattered to the winds like butterflies. Most of what she'd gone over in her head seemed so silly now. There was nothing she could say to him that he didn't already know. 

"In short, I was going to ask you how you see yourself in five years. You asked me something like that before, and it helped, but I never returned the favor."

He paused for a moment. 

"Is that it?" Ben asked, incredulous. "A bit underwhelming, to be being honest."

Rey shrugged. "It doesn't have to be complicated."

"And what is _ it _?"

"A change of heart," she said. "It's all in your head; you think you're stuck, but it couldn't be further from the truth. I should know, Ben. I've been there, remember?"

Expelling a long breath, he placed a hand on the wall just above her head. "We have two options. Either one of us turns, or in roughly an hour we part and go back to how it was."

"Yes."

"I'm assuming you haven't changed your mind about your allegiance."

"Not really," she said. "Yours is wavering, though. If it was ever steady in the first place."

At that moment, the conflict that warred within him spiked so severely she didn't know how he could hold it together without bursting into flames. It burned _ her _, tore her from the inside out, leaving aching with bitter pain. But maybe he was used to it. Maybe that was how he was secretly feeling all this time. 

He dropped his forehead against hers, closing his eyes, his breathing deep and heavy. 

"This is exhausting," he murmured. "Can we go back to playing newly-weds?"

Nudging her nose against his, she pressed a slow, lingering kiss to his lips. His mouth was as soft and pliable as always, but she could tell his mind was elsewhere. Not in the moment, but somewhere far away. A distant future, maybe.

Or a horizon.

"We'll find a way," she promised him. "I know we will."

And even though he had no reason to believe her, knowing how little success they've had so far, the misery in his eyes bled into something else, something new for him.

Hope.

  
  


* * *

She could've never anticipated how bittersweet holding his hand in public would be. The resentment towards their circumstances stung more with each minute, but, if anything, it only made her hold onto him tighter. And just a little longer. 

He'd been hovering by the calligraphy stall for too long. Rey wouldn't have minded, but time was on the verge of running out, and they hadn't even made it to the food carts. Transfixed by a display of expensive-looking quills, each more exotic than the last, he'd leaned over to look at them up-close when she yanked at his sleeve impatiently.

"These are beautiful," he marveled, ignoring her. 

"I suppose," she said skeptically. "Kind of useless, though, aren't they? Nobody writes by hand in this day and age."

He shot her an exasperated look. "Some do."

Her eyebrows must have all but disappeared into her hairline. "Ben Solo, do you want to tell me something?"

"No," he said as he straightened up, the high points of his cheeks tinged with pink. "Let's go."

As they ambled down the street, Rey tried but ultimately failed to clamp down a smile. She'd be hard-pressed to find a worse liar in the entire galaxy. 

Why he thought he could ever succeed in politics was beyond her. 

They passed by more stalls, only briefly glancing at what they had in store before moving on. It was more of the same; art supplies and paintings and, occasionally, a portrait artist or some souvenirs. None of it really caught their eye, and Rey was growing distracted. 

Up until now, the air was nearly rippling with boisterous music, a small band consisting of brass, percussion, and woodwinds all playing somewhere off to the side. But then, a bit further on, something else caught her attention and made her sniff the air while Ben regarded her without bothering to hide his amusement. 

She'd caught a whiff of something deep-fried and unquestionably _ delicious _. 

They only made one more stop before they reached their unspoken destination.

It was yet another selection of paintings, vibrant enough to stand out even in the frenzy all around. Before she knew it, Rey was steering them directly to it like a moth drawn to a flame.

"These are better," he said, stepping up to examine them closer. 

Rey agreed.

The paintings depicted various landscapes; each of what she presumed was a different planet. One was of gloomy, jagged mountains that stretched before a giant, blood-red sun, another showed a jungle so thick that its canopy had swallowed the sky, and yet another was of an untouched meadow that spread all the way to the horizon, the grass glittering with flowers in all the colors of the rainbow.

"Are these drawn from life?" she asked quietly, unwrapping each one with her eyes like a gift. 

Ben opened his mouth to answer, but Rey lifted up a hand.

"Actually—" she said, biting her lip. "Don't tell me. When we embark on our galaxy-spanning voyage, I want to find out for myself."

Though he wasn't smiling, his eyes were possibly the warmest they've ever been. "Okay."

Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't share these half-baked, half-joking future plans with him as it would only drive home how impossible they were. But they were already pretending that everything was okay. 

They could pretend a little bit longer. 

"Rey." He drew closer, his mouth suddenly almost next to her ear. She couldn't tell if it was his warm breath or the words themselves that made her shiver. "What was it that you said this morning? That I'm yours forever?"

"I believe you agreed," she murmured, staring resolutely ahead and fighting off a blush. 

"I do," he said, pressing a chaste kiss to her temple. "I really do."

  
  


* * *

By the time they reached the food court, Ben had grown quiet. 

The various, brightly painted carts were arranged in a semi-circle, leaving a vast, open area interspersed with wooden tables and large, rectangular pots of roses. The air shimmered with sunlight and the sweetest of scent, tickling her nostrils, and her eyes hopped from one vendor to the next as she battled with the urge to try everything from the skewered, deep-fried fruit to the sheer, sugary pieces of candy that gleamed like stained glass. 

She was expecting Ben to make fun of her. At least quip about how they'd _ just _ ate, to which she'd retort that this might be her last chance to stuff herself with junk food before it was back to the Resistance base and their standard menu, and— 

Internally cringing at the trail of thought, Rey willed herself to focus on the matter at hand. Maybe he was right not to say anything, after all. 

Ben barely spared a glance at the surroundings, keeping his eyes trained mostly to the ground. He only snapped out of it after she'd lead him to an empty table well off to the side. A twisting bush of roses separated them from most of the commotion, their blood-red, swollen heads drooping over the edge of the table. 

Rey couldn't help it. She pressed her nose right into the nearest bud, breathing in deep as she closed her eyes. When she opened them, Ben had dropped into the opposite seat, gazing at her with an indecipherable look that made something inside her stomach squirm.

"Yes?" she asked.

His inner lip disappeared between his teeth. He was mulling something over, taking his time. Then, when he finally opened his mouth, he seemed to abruptly change his mind and shook his head instead.

Ben inclined his head in the direction of the stalls as if nothing had happened. "What do you want?"

What a silly question, she wanted _ everything _. 

But life was always disappointing in that regard. Then, another problem occurred to her. 

"I don't—do you have any credits with you?" She regretted asking almost immediately; the concept of mooching off someone had never held much appeal to her. With an apologetic wave of her arms, she straightened her back, eyes already scanning for targets. "Scratch that, I can always use the good old mind trick on the vendors."

He looked horrified. 

"No—what? That's not how you use the Force! _Stars_, Rey."

Rey blinked. Coming from _ him _, the statement didn't hold much weight. 

"Calm down, it's fine," she said. "We won't be returning here anyway, I don't see why—"

"Because it's stealing," he cut her off and rolled his eyes. "Just tell me what you want, I'll get it— please. Don't steal from them."

She wanted to protest, she really did, but her stomach made a very impatient, very loud wail. 

"The deep-fried fruit things on a stick," she acquiesced. With a sharp nod, he made a move to get up, but her hand was faster, catching his wrist. "But I am _ not _ letting you leave before you tell me—whatever it is you want to tell me. "

Another stretched-out moment of indecision. Rey could see it, the way it rippled across his drawn face, how it manifested in him working his jaw in thought. 

"I've been—" He seemed to select each word carefully. "Thinking."

She nodded. Then, a large, bubbly family seated themselves by the table on the other side of their rose bush. 

"Thinking about what?" she urged. 

Shooting the family an ill-disguised look of contempt, Ben drew his mouth into a tight line.

"Nothing."

She could barely suppress a groan. "_ Ben _."

"It's nothing," he countered. 

"Sure. What is it?"

"It's—" He blew out an exasperated breath, sparing another glance at the care-free family who were blessedly unaware they'd caught the ire of the Supreme Leader. "You're really something, do you know that? It's—my birthday today, that's all."

She studied his face for a long while as he stared back, unfazed. Something told her he'd only fed her this piece of information to make up for something else, but— 

"It's your birthday."

"Yes," he said, sounding bored of this conversation already. "It's not a big deal, don't bring it up again."

The irritation at whatever secrets he was still hiding morphed into something else. 

"And you didn't tell me anything!"

He shrugged. "I would've forgotten if it weren't for the festival. It falls on the same day."

Rey didn't know how to ask it politely, so she just went with it. 

"What about—the year?"

The corner of his mouth quirked. "The same year, too."

That gave her much to think about, so much that she was momentarily at a loss for words. Ben used the opportunity to get up, sparing her of coming up with a response. 

"I'm gonna go and get food, and you'll sit here and wait for me," he explained as if to a child. "When I get back, _ I don't want to hear it. _"

  
  
  


* * *

When Ben returned, food in hand, there was a quill waiting on the table. It was a beauty, the royal blue of the feather bleeding into a curved, red tip in a lavish gradient. He looked stupified, his eyes darting from the quill to Rey, to quill again as she put on an innocent face. 

"What's this?" he asked.

"Maybe it fell off from a nearby bird, there's a tree right next to us..."

"_ Rey _." He plopped down and shook his head. "How?"

Truth be told, it hadn't been easy. She only made it back in time because the lines to all the carts had been long—and she'd hightailed it up and down the street. 

"I'm not saying anything," she said with an air of nonchalance. 

He scoffed in disbelief. "You _ stole _ it. You didn't have to—I said I didn't want—"

"You said you didn't want to talk about it, so we're not talking about it." When a moment passed and he still hadn't moved a muscle, Rey shifted uncomfortably in her seat, seeds of doubt that maybe she'd gotten it wrong after all taking root in her mind. "Do you, uh, like it?"

The line of his mouth grew soft. "I do."

"You can write me, uh, letters while we're separated," she prompted cheerfully. "Though, now that I think about it, you'll have to deliver them yourself when we connect, which—sort of defeats the purpose, I suppose."

He let out a shaky laugh, and, with a disbelieving shake of his head, passed her the food. Rey, in turn, nudged the quill to his side of the table.

"I still can't believe you stole it," he muttered, tone laced with affection. "I'm dating a criminal."

"Yeah, well—" She took a bite out of deep-fried mystery fruit. She still had no idea what it was, but it was sinfully sweet with the perfect golden crust, which was all that mattered. "So am I. So where does that leave us?"

  
  


* * *

They hardly spoke on their way back. As they made their way through the crowd, thinning with the enclosing twilight that tinged the skies a dreamlike, muted orange, as they got back to his ship, as they soared back up to the summit—each step she experienced viscerally. Almost in slow-motion.

Not unlike becoming aware that she's in a nice dream and already dreading waking up. 

She knew first hand how quickly everything could change—how a person could change—if all the pieces were set correctly. Now, she felt it more than ever. The subtle transformation hummed in every fiber of her body. 

Whoever she was when she joined the Resistance, when she drank with her friends, then clashed with them, through all the good and the bad, the tears and the laughter, when she hugged Rose as she said goodbye— 

She was no longer that person. 

Something about her had changed permanently, and, deep down, she knew that when she returned, it would never be the same again. Whether it was for better or worse, whether _ she _ was better or worse, it was too early to tell.

But it would be different.

That much was clear.

He was standing on the ledge, looking at the sunset. Feather-light clouds mottled the horizon, cushioning the sinking sun. The world was eerily still; no birds, no wind, even the waterfalls seemed hushed.

She watched him from a careful distance, her arms crossed. Not knowing what to say. 

Not knowing how to begin the end.

When he spoke, it was in a voice so gentle it nearly blended in with the sunset.

"I've been thinking."

Quietly, she drew near him, sidling up behind him. 

"Thinking about what?"

"About what the point of all this is. The war—it's never going to end, is it?"

Her heart skipped a beat.

"It's pointless," she agreed, voice barely above a whisper. "All of it. A waste."

There was a drawn-out silence as she tapped into his Force signature. She expected a storm; his ever-present conflict that churned away as it always did, but instead she was met with—

Peace. A quiet resolution with a hint of something doleful around the edges.

"I'm tired, Rey, and I've been thinking—" He drew a slow, shaky breath. "There is a third option."

She waited with bated breath as he collected himself. Then, finally, _ finally _— 

"If you don't want to turn, and I don't want to turn… Let's meet each other half-way," he said, voice brimming with suppressed emotion. "Rey. Let's burn everything to the ground."

The words rang harshly in her ears, staggering in their vicious power. They surged through her like a vicious tide. Her chest was tight, and she was low on air, but she forced the question out through gritted teeth.

"_ How _?"

"It's easy," he said shakily, and it was clear that it would be anything but. As if sensing her doubt, he rushed to elaborate, "It _ is _ easy. I just don't know if I can—" His voice gave out, and Ben choked back a sob that tore from his chest. "I don't know if I have the strength—"

Blinking away the tears, Rey embraced him from behind. She wrapped her arms around his chest and pressed her face against his back, holding him as tightly as she could. She could feel his pain at the back of her throat, and it was her pain, too. His hands enveloped hers as they fought their tears separately.

"You can," she said. "I know you can."

Separately—and together.

When he finally wrenched himself free from her grasp and turned to face her, she knew what he was about to say.

"You're gonna go back," Rey breathed.

His lips were pressed together, and his face was streaked with tears, but there was conviction in his eyes that burned through all else. 

"I have to," he said. "I'll stop the Starkiller project, put an end to it for good."

"The First Order will fracture."

He let out the most hollow, mirthless laugh. "I'm counting on it."

Rey knew she should be relieved, that she should be_ ecstatic_, but instead, she found herself shaking her head as an empty void of dread settled over her. "It's too dangerous. You'll get killed."

"That's a risk I have to take. It's the only way." His eyes roved over every inch of her face almost as if he was committing it to memory. She hated it. "You have to gather as many allies as you can. When the fighting will break out, I'll need the Resistance's help. Can you do that for me?"

It was a ludicrous plan, so out of left field that it left her reeling. Her eyes were wide and wet, her body frozen in shock. He was, quite frankly, asking for the impossible. 

And _ yet_— 

It would take some convincing, no, a _ lot _ of convincing. Pleading, and explaining, and having to withstand so many judgmental stares and hushed whispers as she made her case. But Leia would believe her, and it was her opinion that mattered. She'd make the right call. 

Rey could already foresee the morbidly long string of sleepless nights she'll spend locked in with her and Poe as they'll go back and forth on strategy. But there was light at the end of the tunnel, too, one in the form of finally ridding the galaxy of war. Of them getting to be together, and for _ that _ she'd be willing to endure the stares, the sleepless nights and a whole lot more.

Yes, it was ludicrous. 

But it could work. 

She could make it work.

"And then what?" Rey asked. "After the fighting stops, what happens then?"

He shrugged. "I dismantle what's left of the First Order, you dismantle the Resistance since it's no longer needed. My mother can work on establishing a new government if she wishes, and meanwhile we—"

"Yes," she whispered in a daze, looking at him but seeing something else, a future she once thought was a dream. A future that was now turning solid and clear. "We'll leave together. See the galaxy. Go someplace far away."

His fingers grazed along her jaw, gently coaxing her to meet his eyes. 

"We'll have to part now, but it won't be for long," he promised. "It'll be worth it. Let me fix my mistakes, and we'll meet again on the other side."

She kissed him. It burned as hot as the tears that still streamed down her cheeks, as deep as her new-found hope. She kissed him like it was their last time, hoping that it wouldn't be. Her hands wound around his neck, pressing him closer as she, over and over again, told a wordless goodbye with her lips, her teeth, and her tongue, searing him into her skin. 

Her heart ached with him, and something inside her was screaming not to leave, not to leave _ him _, ever, but she quelled it—she had no other choice—as the urgency of their kisses dimmed to light, wistful brushes of their lips.

"Half of my soul, you," Ben murmured with the most bittersweet smile, wiping away her remaining tears.

They allowed themselves to linger in each other's arms for just a little longer.

And then, as the sun dipped under the horizon and the light began to fade, it was time to go.

* * *

She held it together as she took off into the air. The process required a firm and steady hand. She flicked all the switches, set the coordinates, checked and then double-checked the fuel readings while the ship soared higher and higher into the darkening sky. 

But all it took was one glance down.

One glance at the plateau, where a tiny, twilight-draped silhouette, barely visible in the encroaching night, raised a hand in goodbye.

One glance, and she broke all over again.

She'd believed, for years and years, that her parents would come back for her. She'd clung to that ray of hope as she barricaded herself in her AT-AT through sandstorms that lasted for weeks, as she scavenged for parts while starving, as she cried herself to sleep after realizing she'd forgotten what her parents' faces looked like. Years passed, and she clung to that singular dream of a familiar spaceship landing outside her doorstep.

Her unwavering faith could be seen as naivete by some, but to her, it had always been her biggest strength. It was the reason why she'd managed to get up in the morning, day after day. 

She'd believed in her parents until the very end.

Now she believed in Ben Solo. It was the same hope, one unfit for this harsh galaxy. But she had to believe in something.

So she believed in him.


	19. Chapter 19

**FOUR MONTHS LATER**

The spicebrew burned intensely on her tongue, leaving a flaming path in its wake as it coursed down her throat. Its warmth bled outwards from her stomach to her chest, steady and unhurried like a rising tide. Soon, it would set her cheeks on fire, progressing until it reached the tips of her fingers. Then, and only then, would they brave the journey back. 

In the warm, flickering lights, her drink glimmered like liquid amber. She knocked it back with a shudder; both from the flavor as well as the thought of stepping foot outside. 

It wasn't like she _ always _ needed alcohol before facing the outdoors, Rey reasoned with herself as she fiddled with her empty cup. 

But it was so kriffing _ cold. _

And they _ were _ in a saloon.

Rose, who'd sunk deep into the upholstery of the sofa, lifted her eyes from the datapad with an appraising cock of her eyebrow. 

"You sloshed enough yet?" she asked. 

Rey made a face. "Not nearly as much as I'd like, but I need a clear head. Poe wants me to help him inspect some of our new X-wings when we get back. How's the receipt looking, everything in order?"

"Yeah, more or less," she said, dropping the datapad onto the grimy tabletop. "Three hundred blaster rifles, a thousand pulse grenades, two hundred canisters of hyperfuel..." Rose fell silent for a moment as she skimmed through the list with her eyes. "Yep, that's everything. I hope the guy wasn't lying when he promised to deliver it all tomorrow. We need it, like, _ yesterday _."

Rey hummed in agreement. "He better. He's being paid a small fortune, after all."

In the past, the Resistance would've never dared to splurge on such luxuries as hyperfuel, which cost twice as much through the unofficial channels they were forced to use. Now, though, their financial situation had undergone a certain _ change _.

"Right." Rose's eyes flashed with a knowing look. "Our generous mystery benefactor has been particularly—_ generous _ lately. Not that I'm complaining! It's just a bit odd that we can, like, afford stuff now."

Huffing, Rey dropped her eyes back to the empty cup. Her stomach twisted into painful knots.

She found herself wishing for another drink.

"Everything's hanging by a thread out there," she murmured. "Any day now, it's gonna happen. We need to be armed and ready when it does. He's counting on us."

Rose eyed her for a moment, hesitating.

"Have you—heard anything lately?"

Clenching her jaw, Rey shook her head without lifting her eyes. The last thing she needed to see was the flicker of disappointment on Rose's face.

She had plenty of that on her own.

After Kiros, when they'd gone their separate ways, their connections had reverted back to their initial, random, and all too brusque state. She counted herself lucky if she got to see Ben at all during the day, and even when she did, it was never more than a few minutes at a time.

It brought back uncomfortable memories of how it was on Ahch-To, when she was an all too naive trainee of a very disgruntled Luke. How she'd longed for the Jedi legend to give her the time of the day, to set her on the right path, to give her the answers that she thought she needed. How, back then, she'd viewed her curt and forced conversations with Ben as something intrusive, even preying. 

Something she couldn't get away from fast enough.

Now, when they connected, it was _ never _ enough. A couple of minutes at most. All she could manage was to sink into his arms, check if he was okay—if he was really, truly okay. And always lied, whispering into her hair that he was, that she had nothing to worry about, that he had everything under control. But the dark circles under his eyes that bloomed a darker shade every time she saw him didn't escape her notice. And neither did his weight, dropping steadily with each week that ticked by at an agonizing pace.

The worst part was that she had to play along. His arms had only just wrapped around her, the perfunctory reassurances told, when Ben was holding her at arm's length as she whisked out a datapad. In a hushed tone, he'd pass her intel intended for Leia, and then he'd abruptly evaporate, sometimes even mid-sentence.

Rey would be left alone, clutching her datapad to her chest. 

Her heart racing. Aching. 

Sometimes, the Force was even crueler. Sometimes, they couldn't interact even when it connected them. She hated those occasions most of all. 

It wasn't out of the ordinary for Ben to pop into her plane of existence while he was in a meeting, his back slumped and face worryingly pale. Their eyes would lock for a quick, breathless second, and he'd swallow, giving an almost imperceptible shake of his head before tearing his eyes back to his own matters.

She couldn't touch him. And she wanted to. Wanted to so bad she could scream. But it was impossible as his officers would see her.

It was almost brilliant in its simplicity; she couldn't have invented a more frustrating form of personalized torture if she'd tried.

And so she'd ball her hands into fists and wait it out. Studying his drawn features, the jut of his cheekbones that stood out more harshly each time.

Reminding herself again and again that this was a necessary sacrifice.

A week had gone by since the last time they'd properly talked. Though, a few days ago, Rey could've sworn that she felt his presence during the night. His warmth that she'd burn bridges for, _ kill _ for, right next to her in the dark. His soft lips had brushed her forehead, gentle like the wings of a butterfly, murmuring something that she couldn't quite make out in her sleep-addled state. But then her eyes had fluttered open, and he was gone.

So she'd thrown herself into aiding the cause, doing anything she could to make the time fly faster. Escorting Leia on covert missions to forge alliances. Helping Poe with the up-keep of their new fleet. Aiding Finn with the training of new recruits. Accompanying Rose while she met with black market sellers in dingy bars. 

Nothing she did was enough to clear him from the forefront of her mind. To stop worrying every second of each day.

But it was enough to fill her days to the brim. To tire her out enough so that her sleep was always deep and dark as a bottomless pit. Which was just what she needed. 

Any day now, the coup that Hux was covertly—or so he thought—orchestrating, would finally transpire, and the frail internal fabric of the First Order would unravel like a crashing house of cards. Each day brought her closer to her reunion with Ben.

It was enough to keep her going.

A small, warm hand that sported a wedding band reached across the table and brushed Rey's wrist.

It startled her. 

Whisked her back to the present. 

Right. They were in the Lodge, the air outside was so cold it stung her cheeks and lungs, and they were polishing off their drinks before heading back to the base. 

Rose's eyes were kind and sympathetic, her gaze melting some of the bitter ice that had congealed over Rey's heart. 

"Sometimes, I feel selfish for wanting the ceasefire to end," Rey said to her as the corner of her mouth twisted up. "But all this sitting around is driving me crazy. Like, yesterday, after debriefing, Poe pulled me aside and went off on a tangent about what a Vertical Swoop was as if I didn't already _ know _ that. When he said it could potentially save my life, I had to go and run some laps to keep myself from inflicting some serious injuries."

Rose grimaced and finished her own drink, which made her grimace again. "That's just—Poe. I'm sorry. And you're not being selfish. The quicker this starts, the quicker it ends, right? "

"I know, I know," Rey agreed. "I'm just tired of waiting, I think."

Rose's eyes lit up with something like a mischievous twinkle. 

"Want to take another _ vacation _?"

"Stop that."

"What I wouldn't give to frolic through a meadow and do some unspeakable things under a tree..." she cooed. 

Rey burst into laughter, her cheeks burning. "I'm never telling you anything again, you are the worst."

"_ What _?" Rose asked, echoing her laughter. "This is coming from a place of admiration and love—and who knows, maybe Finn and I will retrace your carnal footsteps after this is over! The perfect destination for a sex romp and you two discovered it by accident. Unbelievable. "

Rey huffed and averted her eyes. "I doubt Finn would want to retrace Ben's anything."

"I'm very persuasive."

"That you are," she said fondly. "I hope we can—keep in touch, somehow. After."

Rose gave a slow nod. "Right. I mean, I'm still not sure where I stand with K—Ben."

"I understand."

"And, sometimes, it feels like you and Finn are talking about two completely different people."

"I don't expect anyone to outright forgive him," Rey said. "Nor do I think Ben wants anything to do with the Resistance apart from using our forces to bring down the FO. But maybe, slowly, we can start bridging the gap when things settle down."

_ When we settle down _, she thought with a hopeful flutter of her heart. 

"Right—so. I might not approve of your taste in men, but I'll stand behind you no matter what."

Rey smiled at her. "I appreciate it."

And with that, they prepared to leave. 

A reluctant sigh escaped her lips as she put on her thick coat, a knitted scarf, a wool hat, and gloves. Once they'd swaddled themselves adequately, they trudged out into the piercing cold.

The skies were a bright and deadly shade of blue as they made their way back to the ship. The cold bit at her exposed skin. Rey hadn't even known this was possible until she'd rejoined the Resistance in Vandor, that cold could _ burn _. 

But the walk, even through the snow, would only take ten minutes at most. The flight back would be shorter still, just over a few sweeping mountain ranges. 

They pushed on as quickly as their heavy clothing would allow. 

Rey stopped dead in her tracks half-way through.

At first, she thought it was the tell-tale beginnings of a bond connection that made the back of her neck tingle. Goosebumps erupted all over her arms, and she stood still in the freezing cold, heart beating heavily against her ribs. It was such an inopportune moment, to be sure, but at this point, she'd take what she could get, cold or no cold.

It had been a long, long week.

She missed him more than words could tell.

Rose must have noticed that only one pair of boots was still crunching over the snow. She turned, her face wrapped with a large, red scarf all the way up to her nose, as her brow furrowed in confusion.

"What is it?" The sound came out muffled through the thick fabric. When Rey didn't reply, Rose cast a surreptitious glance around. The mountain village was calm and still, with no one within earshot. "Is it—is your thing starting up?"

"I—" Rey's voice trailed out, and she shook her head as if to clear it. "I'm not sure what it is."

It was odd, like teetering on the edge of a sneeze. The pull was strong, but the release was nowhere in sight. _ Ben _was nowhere in sight. 

"I can leave if that's the case!" Rose said as she backed away, her eyes panicked. "I can wait on the ship, Rey, it's fine. I—yeah, I'll wait on the ship. You both can do your thing, take as long as you need—"

Rey thought she was going crazy. She could feel him in her _ blood _, coursing through her system like a fever. He was there, at the tip of her tongue, in the breath that kept catching in her throat, her racing heartbeat. There, but also— 

Not _ here _. 

A few moments later, Rey caught up with an equally confused Rose. 

"That was quick," she pointed out.

"No," Rey said breathlessly. "Nothing happened, I don't understand..."

Rose huffed. "Odd."

"Very odd."

"Can you still—feel it?"

Rey nodded, glancing around again for good measure. 

Nothing.

"It's so strange," she said. "He's supposed to here; it feels almost like—"

The words fizzled out into the ether as Rey drew a breath. The realization hit with the strength of a tidal wave, making the world swim before her eyes. She'd felt this way before. 

But it had been so long. And, in the previous times, she'd always expected it. 

She grabbed the puffy sleeve of Rose's coat, both to steady herself and catch her attention, her eyes wide. 

"I think I know what this is," Rey said and swallowed, her mind reeling. "Rose, we have to get back to the ship. Immediately."

Rose nodded without a word.

The rest of the way to the ship, they ran.

* * *

In retrospect, Rey shouldn't have been surprised that a direct descendent of the Skywalker bloodline—one famed in equal parts for its proficiency in the Force and a flair for drama—would make his grand return in such a theatrical fashion. 

When Rey and Rose arrived at the base, there was a TIE starfighter parked right by the main entrance, somewhat obscured by the small crowd of people huddled around it. Her heart on the verge of jumping out of her throat, Rey bolted towards the commotion.

She couldn't quite make out what was going on, but even from a distance, she could _ hear _ it. 

The cutting wind brought voices, raised and furious, from where a shouting match was currently unfolding. But even through the clamor, a single voice cut through it like a knife, its deep resonance giving Rey chills that had nothing to do with the cold. She wasn't thinking about the weather, wasn't thinking about _ anything _ as she threaded through the crowd, her mind a rapid frenzy.

She managed to squeeze herself to the front row and halted.

She'd sometimes daydream about how this would go, about how the Resistance would react if Ben just decided to show up one day, but even her vivid imagination had failed to prepare her for the sheer oddity of the spectacle.

Ben was by his ship, cape billowing in the harsh breeze and gloved hands clenched at his sides. Alone against a semi-circle of outraged Resistance members who'd surrounded him while also keeping a safe distance. Rey couldn't tell which side seemed more infuriated—Ben, who was barely holding back a snarl, or the angry mob.

Both were simmering with an equal amount of rage. Harsh and rugged mountains were towering indifferently in the background, their snowy peaks reaching far into the chipper, blue sky.

And, once again, Rey found herself in the middle. 

Ben hadn't noticed her presence. He was too fixated on Poe who had his blaster drawn.

She was torn between intervening and standing by just to see what would happen. The scene was so surreal—he was really _ here _, she couldn't believe it—and straight-up bizarre that she, after giving it some thought, settled on the latter.

"You can put that down, Dameron," Ben sneered, his own weapon tucked into the holster. "It won't do a thing—you should know that better than anyone."

"It's Commander Dameron, actually," Poe quipped, keeping his tone light, but the grip on his blaster tightened. "At least, to you it is."

Ben huffed. "Impressive posturing for someone who wouldn't be standing here if it weren't for me. _ Dameron _."

"Cute," Poe said frostily. "But I could also list you hundreds of good people who _ would _ be if it weren't for you. If you think you can barge in here and act like you deserve our respect while putting us all in jeopardy—"

Ben briefly closed his eyes like he was stifling a headache.

"So much preaching, and yet when I offered to sponsor your little operation here—offered you money that you _ accepted _—"

"A common enemy doesn't make us friends, Benny," Poe cut him off with a bitter smile as Ben's fingers twitched dangerously at his sides, eyes flashing with hatred. "All the credits in the galaxy wouldn't be enough to buy your way out of your crimes—or a guilty conscience."

"I'll be out of your hair soon, don't worry about that," Ben spat. "I'm here to speak with General Organa. It's urgent. And also—"

He was interrupted by a voice from the crowd that tried to chime in, but Ben wasn't having it. Without averting his eyes, he pursed his lips and pointed his finger towards the guilty party. As if on command, the person fell silent. 

Rey had to look away to keep herself from wheezing.

"I'd like to make one thing clear." There was a low, baleful edge to Ben's voice that signaled incoming trouble. "I don't like you. If I ever see your face after the war, I promise I will _ gut _ you, do you hear me? I don't intend to stay here for a minute longer than I have to."

Poe smirked. "I'd watch what I say, if I were you, buddy. Your pardon—you know, the one for all the war crimes you committed, that one—is still pending. One wrong move and it will be suspended." 

It was an empty threat, meant to provoke and nothing more. A promise made by Leia was as good as gold, but Ben bristled anyway, which was just what Poe wanted.

"_ I _should watch what I say? Don't forget, I still control the First Order, I could have you all ungrateful parasites wiped off the map within an hour—"

"Oh, stop crying and go stick it in a sarlacc, save us all the trouble."

Ben bared his teeth, eyes screaming murder. He reached for his lightsaber as Poe put his finger on the trigger. Then, someone standing behind Rey—someone who sounded suspiciously like Rose—whispered a faint _ do something _in her ear.

Before she could stop it, Rey was shoved out into the open. 

That was when Ben's eyes, clear and so dark, finally landed on her, hand frozen over the hilt. He drew a stuttering breath, his body going rigid. Slowly, everyone followed his confounded gaze until Rey became the sole focus of everyone's piercing stares. 

It was Poe who broke the painful silence as Ben gawked at her. 

"You didn't tell us he's coming."

"I didn't know," she replied, and it was the honest truth. 

Another heavy pause. It was becoming unbearable, with everyone still watching her. Rey let out a deep sigh.

"You're worse than children, both of you." She gave a casual nod at the entrance. "Leia's inside. I'll take you to her, come. And Poe—go cool off somewhere, will you?"

Ben swallowed and managed a stiff nod of his own. He lurched into a measured stride that made the nearest people all but jump to the side as a path cleared up before him. With Rey trotting close in tow, they made their way to the doors in complete silence. Rey steadfastly ignored the biting stares and the biting chill, focusing on not tripping on his sweeping cape. What Ben was thinking or feeling at the moment, she had no way of knowing. Much like her mind, his Force signature seemed to sizzle with everything at once. 

The doors slammed shut behind them, and Rey released a long-overdue breath. Ben didn't say anything, his anger still simmering on the surface, body pulled taut as a string. They rounded a corner and found themselves in an empty corridor.

One careless flick of his eyes over the surroundings, and Rey was pushed up against the wall.

The last thing she could see was his searing stare before his mouth found hers. His skin was pure ice, but his mouth—his mouth was warm, and insistent, and home. He kissed her through his raw anger, crowding his body as close to hers as he could, something akin to desperation licking at his seething edges. Rey parted her lips—to protest, maybe, or to ask what was going on—but he used the opportunity to slide his tongue in, deepening the kiss, deepening everything as his fingers trailed over the column of her neck possessively. 

She whimpered. She couldn't help it. Only now, the gravity of the situation was beginning to sink in. 

He was _ here _.

He was kissing her like he was starving.

He was twisting her hair around his fingers, angling her head to give him more access. 

They were—in a public place. 

As much as she'd enjoy disappearing into his abyss, the chance of someone walking in on them was too high. Gently, she placed her hands on his chest and pushed him off. With a resentful, frustrated little noise that made her knees weak, Ben broke the kiss. But he didn't move away. She was still trapped as he looked her over with his inscrutable gaze, her chest heaving. 

"Where were you?" he demanded sharply.

Rey frowned at his tone as she collected her thoughts. The aftermath of their kiss still lingered on her lips like spicebrew, and she tried to draw him further away to give her some room to think. He wouldn't budge a hair's breadth. 

"I was out—Rose and I were meeting with an arms dealer. The better question, I think, is what in seven stars are _ you _ doing here?"

He clenched his jaw. 

"I wouldn't have dropped by like that, but the bond has been kriffing _ useless _ as of late," he hissed, "and chances are my private comms' channels are tapped. I used my evening off to slip out. With a bit of luck, I should be back before anyone notices."

He wasn't saying what she expected him to say. So she said it for him. 

"All hell is on the cusp of breaking loose over there," Rey said in a low voice, "isn't it?"

Another curt nod.

Rey tilted her head back to get a better look at him. His anger had ebbed, some of the tension was slowly leaving his squared shoulders, and his mask of defiance fell and gave way to an altogether different energy. All of a sudden, he looked so pale and sickly tired that Rey was chastising herself for not noticing it earlier.

"You look _ terrible _," she muttered, placing her hand against his cheek as her fingers traced the sharp lines of his face. He leaned into her touch near involuntarily, eyes fluttering closed for a second. With a dark and bitter chuckle, he caught her wrist and pressed a light kiss against the back of her hand.

"You look cute, though. I like the hat."

Rey rolled her eyes at him. 

He looked gaunter, the hollows of his cheeks more pronounced. Even his hair looked—deflated, somehow, as if he hadn't been putting nearly as much effort into taking care of himself. Which included eating proper meals, apparently.

And sleeping.

The past four months might have taken a toll on Rey, but at least she'd been safe and as healthy as one could be. Protected. He, on the other hand, had been anything but, day by day.

A pang of remorse, sharp and stinging, shot through her heart. 

She proceeded by looking him up and down. 

"Ben, are you hurt? You can tell me," she asked, her tone clipped. "Any injuries I should heal? Should I find you something to eat—our canteen is quite decent, though they've recently taken to overboiling their vegetables to mush, I'm not sure why. Maybe I can fix you some fruit, instead—"

"I'm _ fine _, Rey," he grumbled as he drew away. "A bit tired, maybe."

She let out an exasperated breath. "_ A bit tired _ . Sure. Just don't pass out on me, I'm _ fairly _ certain I won't be able to carry you all the way to my room."

His eyes sparked to life with interest, and Rey bit her lip to stifle a smile. Stars, was he easy to read.

"Walk me to where Leia is, and then—we'll see."

They set off through the maze of corridors side by side, so close their hands kept brushing. She wanted to reach out and hold his hand, she really did, but every time Rey ruminated on the possibility, they ran into more Resistance stragglers. 

Every encounter went the same exact way: they saw Ben, then her, froze, and proceeded to scurry off into the other direction. She expected Ben's mood to sour because of this, but his Force signature remained unchanging, save for a few spikes of amusement.

To give her fellow fighters some credit, running into the Supreme Leader of the First Order in the Resistance's Headquarters would be a shock to most people, even if they'd had time to mentally prepare. This wasn't Kiros, Rey reminded herself. Anonymity was a privilege he didn't have here.

"How much do they know? About you and me," he quietly asked her after a woman had braved to walk past them—the first one to attempt such a feat. She'd kept her eyes glued to the ground, her breath bated. 

"Some know everything, some a little bit. Most—suspect," Rey explained, wincing. "It's not exactly a secret, I suppose. Not after our Kiros stunt, anyway."

"Has anyone given you any trouble?"

Now Rey _ did _ snort. 

As if she could ever respond to that question with anything but a _ no _. She may have had her fair share of problems with the Resistance in the past, but setting Ben off on a revenge-fuelled rampage somehow struck her as a bad idea. He was looking for an excuse to lash out some more, she knew. 

She wouldn't oblige.

"It's been okay," she said. "Not everyone—approves, obviously, but they've been smart enough not to say it to my face."

"Good. It doesn't matter what they think, anyway. We'll leave them all behind soon enough."

"How soon?"

"Sooner than you think."

They stopped at the end of a corridor, where an inconspicuous looking door separated them for the briefing room. From Leia. Rey moved the open it, but Ben caught her hand.

"Actually—" he said, staring blankly at the door. "Would you mind if I went in alone?"

"Of course, go ahead," she answered.

He drew a deep breath and collected himself. Rey could feel his Force signature tamping down, turning lighter and airier as he willed himself to be calm. 

"Will you wait for me?"

Rey was already sliding to the floor, her back pressed against the wall. 

"I will wait, Ben."

He smiled at her. A wan and frail kind of smile that evaporated like a melting snowflake, but a real one nonetheless. 

Then, he went in.

Ben was inside for hours—or, at least, what felt like hours. Rey didn't have a chrono at hand, and minutes lumbered on at a grudging pace. Without anything to occupy herself with, at times, her eyelids turned unbearably heavy, and she almost, _ almost _ dozed off right there on the floor. Her head snapped up with a jolt every time. 

Her waiting was only broken up when she had to not so gently shoo away a few Resistance fighters in need to speak with Leia. Rey thought they wouldn't appreciate any interruptions, so she acted as a bouncer of sorts. A sleepy and bored bouncer, admittedly, but an effective one nonetheless. 

After who knows how long, the door finally cracked open, and Rey scrambled to her feet.

Ben exited the room silently and without meeting her eyes, his expression closed and heavy. If he'd seemed tired before, now, she was beginning to worry he genuinely might not make it to her room. He was as pale as freshly fallen snow, everything about him exuding a morbid aura of exhaustion that made Rey's heart twist for him all over again.

Leia, who was in much better condition herself, followed right after. She caught Rey's gaze and smiled, her eyes twinkling with delight much like the many jewels on her slender, withered fingers.

"I'll admit, there have been times when I've questioned what this all has been about," she said to Rey. "So many losses throughout the years, so much pain and wrong turns, decade after decade. I'd never admit it publicly, of course, but I myself have been scared that all of our efforts would amount to nothing. We might not share the same views on everything—" She shot Ben a sharp and amused look as he huffed and turned away. "But it looks like the end is in sight, finally. Ben just gave us the last pieces of intel we needed. They'll never know what hit them."

Rey squared her shoulders and blew out a shuddering breath. It was always a chilling thing to hear, that they're about to go to war, but there was a thrill to it, too. 

No more waiting.

"Can I trust you to issue me a pardon—even if I won't be there? I don't want to spend the rest of my life looking behind my back," Ben asked in a hard voice.

Her smile flickered into something a touch more wistful. "Planning on running off, are you, son?"

"We are," Rey intervened. "Together. The first chance we get."

Leia gave her a long, thorough look that pierced her very skin. She met it without flinching, her will hard as stone, unyielding against whatever evaluation of character she was currently under. But there was nothing malicious or judgmental in Leia's eyes, and, frankly, Rey wouldn't have cared even if there was.

She'd decided long ago what she wanted to do.

Maybe even before her rational mind had caught up.

"Use the little bit of good sense you have and take her to Naboo when this is over," Leia said to Ben with a note of finality. "We still have our lakeside house there, near Keren. It's been gathering dust for years. You might not remember, but we spent a few summers there, back when—" 

"I remember."

"It's available. Think it over."

Rey didn't have a clue where Naboo was, or what it looked like. Ben had mentioned it to her in passing once, but it wasn't much to go by. Just that she would like it. But there was a lake there, apparently.

To her, it already sounded a lot better than Jakku.

"The point of going off the grid is to settle someplace we can't be found," Ben rumbled. "Naboo is hardly the definition of inconspicuous, and so is that house. And, besides, I don't like the idea of you possibly paying a visit at any time."

"I promise I'd comm you first. The last thing I'd want is to walk in on something," Leia said cheekily, to which he scoffed. 

There was something touching about the way his mother was trying to reach out to him, something that Ben clearly wasn't comfortable with as of yet. But it presented an opening. Rey saw it, narrow as a needle, but enough to open up some possibilities in the future.

Not tomorrow, next month or even next year. But eventually, with time and patience.

Things could go back to normal.

"Thank you, Rey," Leia said. "I don't know where we'd be without you."

Rey's tongue felt thick, and she shook her head. "You don't have to thank me. I—haven't done anything. Truly."

Leia shook her head and sighed. "I think I'm starting to see what you two see in each other. You're both equally dense, it seems. Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a lot of work waiting ahead; I'll schedule a debriefing for the evening. You'll have a few hours—rest up while you can."

* * *

"Here's my humble abode," Rey said as she flicked on the light. 

Here on Vendor, it got dark unnervingly early. It wasn't even late afternoon yet, but the sky outside her window was quickly turning a menacing, bruised purple. The wind whistled and rattled her window panes. Rey was glad she'd managed to get her essential duties done earlier in the day.

It would be another harsh night. 

For reasons she couldn't discern, Ben lingered in the doorway, both hands against the frame, as if he was scared to step over the threshold. 

"Nothing too fancy, as you can see, but I'm sure you'll survive for an hour or two," she babbled, more to break up the silence than anything.

His eyes swept over the scant furniture, the weapons slung into the corner, the pile of clothes on the floor, finally landing on her unmade bed.

"You're messy."

With an annoyed huff, Rey waved a hand. The clothes levitated from the floor and catapulted into the open drawer of her dresser. The drawer then jerked shut with a loud thud. 

"I wasn't exactly expecting _ visitors _."

"Just making an observation," he said softly as he stepped into her territory. 

Rey shut the door behind him.

His hands were behind his back as he ambled across the room, stopping a few times to examine a couple of her possessions with polite but genuine interest. He studied her quarterstaff. Ran his fingers over the cracked spines of her Jedi tomes. Found her perpetual stash of rations, much to her relief, without commenting.

She watched him with something akin to fascination as she removed her outerwear. Their relationship was so odd, it was almost comical. But also—appropriate.

For them.

He'd been inside her bedroom so many times without ever physically being there. They'd shared a bed for so long before their adversarial relationship began to bloom into something else. They'd been inside each other's minds, combed through their deepest fears, finding realities of startling intimacy long before they became intimate with each other. 

Everything was always proceeding in the wrong order for them, they—or the Force—always ending up pushing each other too far.

But now, as he carefully examined her battered things like they were made of gold, Rey thought that everything was finally falling into place. She wasn't plagued by her usual doubt or fear, but something warmer and much deeper.

A belief that as long as they were together, they'd be on the right path. 

"I presume you'll be leaving after the debriefing?"

"Yes," he said. "But if everything goes as planned, we'll meet again in a few days."

"On the battlefield," she said, the corner of her mouth twisting.

"Possibly," he agreed. "Isn't it poetic? We met during a skirmish, too, after all. It's only fitting that a battlefield is where we'll put it that chapter of our lives behind us."

Rey let out a deep breath, pushing more clutter underneath her bed while his back was turned. "At least we'll be on the same side now. They don't stand a chance."

"Only for now. I mean it, Rey. I don't want to be associated with the Resistance for a second longer than necessary."

"That's fine. I'm sure most of them feel the same way."

Ben smirked. "Clearly."

He'd reached her bed. After what looked like a second of deliberation, he unceremoniously plopped face-down on her rumpled sheets, a satisfied and muffled groan leaving his lips. Rey closed the distance and sat down next to him. In what felt like an automatic response, her fingers began carding through his hair, still just as soft as she remembered. 

"Your bed smells like you."

"Would be weird if it didn't," she teased, smiling down at his limp body.

"I missed it."

It was astonishing how someone so large could make his voice sound so small. 

"I missed _ you _," she stressed. "My evenings have been—lacking without our scheduled Force sessions."

A muscled arm shot out and curled around her waist, toppling her off balance. Despite his worse for wear state, he could still be quick as lightning. It caught Rey completely off guard. She thought she let out a tiny squeal, one that was quickly quelled when he pressed her against his chest, propping his chin on top of her head. Keeping an anchoring arm around her waist for good measure.

"There." The words rolled off his tongue in a drowsy pace, with a hint of smugness. "All better now."

"Ben, stop—" she protested as she bit back a laugh. "I'm not tired."

The hand that kept her in place slithered up her spine all the way to the back of her head. He all but shoved her face into his chest. 

"You will _ sleep _." It sounded like a threat. "And so will I."

Rey chuckled and, to his audible dismay, wriggled out of his vice-like grip. But she didn't go far, shifting up until she was lying on her side, her cheek against a pillow. That way, she could meet his eyes, which were half-lidded and weighed down with exhaustion, but also—soft. Dark and glimmering in the light like a shifting current reflecting the night's sky.

He looked like he was about a minute away from passing out.

"Sleep next to me, please," he tried again, a drowsy smile playing on his lips. "For old time's sake. It's—hard to do it without you now."

"I'll be right here," she promised and brushed his hair from his face. "I'm not leaving you."

He continued gazing at her, eyes flickering across her face. There was nothing special about this moment in particular, they weren't doing anything they hadn't before, but maybe it was them that had changed because her heart swelled to an impossible degree, swelled until her eyes felt wet. 

It was a silent and perfect moment, and it was theirs. 

"We're going to have such a good life," she said hoarsely. 

"You think?"

"I know we will."

"I'm sometimes worried that I won't know _ how _," he mumbled. "It's been a long time since I was allowed to just—exist. War defines me in an intrinsic way. Without it, I have no idea who I even am."

"I feel the same way. But we'll figure it out along the way. We'll have time, plenty of time."

"Promise?"

"I promise," she smiled and pressed a gentle, fleeting kiss to his lips. 

He was too spent to chase for more, but she could tell he wanted to. The best he could do was wrap his hand around her shoulders as she nuzzled against his neck. The two birthmarks that she knew so intimately by now were right there. She kissed them both, one after the other, peaceful and overflowing with affection. 

The Force enveloped them, their bond thrumming with the slow intensity of the moment. It sang a low, harmonical tune that only they could hear, its resonance caressing them both equally as they relaxed and let it envelop them like warm, spring rain. 

"Do you feel that?" His breath ghosted over her temple, his fingers drawing circles on her nape. "The Force loves us."

"Maybe it knew what it was doing after all."

Her speech was growing slower, lazier. Maybe his exhaustion was seeping over to her through the bond, or maybe it was his warmth that had a calming effect on her. Her heartbeat slowed, and she closed her eyes. His, however, picked up. With all the clothing they were still wearing, it had to be the bond that was telling her that. They were more interconnected than ever, the line between them soft and hazy like a fog, so it had to be the bond. What troubled him, though, she didn't know.

His fingers stilled.

"The Force loves us, Rey," he repeated, with a quiver to his voice that wasn't there before. "Just like I love you."

_ She _ stilled. Froze. Stiffened, her every nerve on edge.

She didn't lift her head, _couldn't_ lift her head. But she didn't have to. She knew exactly what she'd see.

It was hard for her, hard in a way she couldn't quite put into words. Rey fought a brief but brutal internal battle as he held her patiently. Waiting with his heart laid open and bleeding because he'd always been patient with her. 

"I love you too."

The words sprung from her lips like birds released from a cage. She felt so much lighter after saying them. Freer. 

Now that the hard part was over and done with, Rey felt like she could repeat it again and again, but he was quicker.

"We will shake the stars, you and I."

"I think we already did," she breathed. "In our own subdued way."

There was nothing more to say. They both relaxed against each other, holding each other. Eventually, his breathing evened. Like unhurried waves, his chest rose and fall, and she let him rock her into a peaceful sleep, knowing that he'd be waiting for her on the other side. That he'd be there when she woke up. That he'd come for her, always.

She would be alright. She knew that now.

Outside, the first evening stars peeked down in the growing dark, glimmering brightly against the bruised sky. 

_ Yes _ , Rey thought as she drifted off. _ They would be alright. _


	20. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen—  
Listen.  
I know it’s been months. If you’re still subscribed, this update will come as a surprise. For a while there, I myself wasn’t sure there would be an epilogue, but inspiration hit and, lo and behold, this happened. 
> 
> This was very healing for me to write. Giving our favorite space babies a definitive happy ending feels so *right*. After all, it’s what they deserve. 
> 
> Also!!! It’s very much Blowing My Mind that this fic, my lovely and imperfect firsborn, has reached 20k hits. Thank you so much, everyone! 🤧 I have no idea how it happened—or when—but it makes me very happy that it did. 
> 
> !!! content warning !!! : mentions of pregnancy (nothing overly detailed, the chapter is from Ben’s POV)

**THREE YEARS LATER.**

"It's very—" Ben pushed open the groaning wooden gate, a deep crease knitting his brow. "Hm."

His first thought was that it was so much _ smaller _ than he remembered. But, then again, the last time he was here, he was also much smaller, wasn't he? 

The house—or what was left of it—was very modest compared to the resplendent architectural feats Naboo was known for. The domed teal roof still retained some of its luster in the setting sun, and the stone walls were in the same vanilla shade, but apart from that—

A pang of dread tugged at his gut.

Ben turned to Rey, who was looking at the estate with a closed expression. 

"It's a _ wreck _," he huffed. "I'm sorry. We don't have to do this—there are plenty of other options."

She met his eyes for just a moment, then set off wordlessly. The overgrown grass grazed her lithe hips as she waded through what was once a yard. Ben was close in tow, and together they broke in a new path on land that hadn't known footsteps in years. He tried tapping into her Force signature but to no avail; her walls were up, a churning undercurrent of some indiscernible emotion just beyond his reach. 

They toured the grounds first—not that there was much to see. Years of free rein had had an effect—everything as far as the eye could see was swallowed up by nature. They stopped by a marble fountain, dark vines webbing the basin, long defunct. Rey circled it once, twice, fingers gracing its edge. The jogan tree orchard—a long-abandoned passion project of his mother’s—was next, the ground there littered with overripe fruit. After some wandering about, she picked a fresher one off the ground, wiped it against her tunic, and gave it to Ben. Then found another one for herself.

The sentiment was sweet, but Ben was in no mood to eat. His stomach was in knots that twisted more painfully with each minute. 

Curiously, the only thing that had remained proportional to his memory was the lilac bushes. They encased the whole property, wild and looming giants, the air thick with their sweet scent. 

Accompanied by the sound of their rustling leaves, they reached a latticed gazebo. Roses, once so neatly pruned, had overtaken the entire structure, turning it into a thorn-ridden jungle, and the roof was partially caved in. Completely unusable now. A long-forgotten memory drifted to the surface of his mind; he'd once spent an entire day there poring over _The_ _Epic of Grimtaash_. In his defense, that was during the height of his brief but vehement Alderaanian mythology phase.

A _ very _ different time.

Rey pressed her lips into a thin line and finally turned to him. Behind her, through the gaps in the trees, a lake glimmered in the setting sun like it was on fire. 

"Can we go inside?" she asked in a small voice, the first words she'd spoken since they arrived. 

Ben searched her face for a sign—_ any _ sign—but found none. After giving her a terse nod, he led her around the house and up the porch. 

The front door opened with a reluctant creak. 

What lay beyond was—discouraging.

Dust swirled up into the air as they entered, their footsteps too loud for the silent halls. Ben watched as Rey crossed what used to be a sunlit salon and opened a cabinet. Once she'd checked that it was, like he'd expected, empty, the hinges breathed their last and gave out. The cabinet door then detached and dropped into her arms.

"A fixer-upper, if I ever saw one," he tried to quip as Rey carefully set the wooden slab down, propping it against the wall. 

She just gave him a _ look _. 

The scarce furniture that the house did have was covered with white sheets. He pulled one off at random, uncovering a battered couch. To his horror, a critter with glossy, blue fur had made a nest there, right into the upholstery, its glowing eyes levying an affronted, post-nap glare his way. Ben groaned and flicked it off with the Force. Upon landing on the floor, the creature hissed at him, revealing two rows of razor-sharp teeth, and scampered off into the shadows. 

_ Lovely _. 

He turned his head to check in on Rey, but she had already disappeared further inside. His stomach turned as he followed her Force signature through the house, down some corridors and then up a staircase. 

For three years, they'd been anonymous tumbleweeds blowing about the galaxy, traveling from one star system to the next in his father's old ship—their ship, now—and never staying in one place for too long. 

The yellow volcanoes in the forest planet of Kabray, the endless, rolling savannas of Zebitrope IV—they'd seen it all, lending a hand to whomever needed it where they could. He'd been unaccustomed to such an—_ aimless _ and anonymous existence at first, so pressing was the guilt about his past, but Rey was always there when he needed her, always squeezing his hand and offering sweet whispers of encouragement that kept his darkness at bay. And time, they had so _ much _ of it, enough to explore the far reaches of the galaxy—and each other, too. 

It was the most peace he'd known in his whole life.

More peace than he thought was possible. 

Slowly, so slowly he didn't even notice it at first, he'd begun to heal. They both had. Now that she was a little older, and he—a little wiser, it was finally time to turn a new page. 

He found her in the master bedroom, bouncing on the balls of her feet. In front of her, wide but grimy windows opened to the orchard—and beyond that, the lake. 

He cleared his throat as he approached. Rey didn't flinch.

"I didn't think it'd be this bad," he tried to explain. It went without saying that the state of this property had upset him; he wanted, so desperately, to give Rey the things she wanted. A place to settle down had been one of them, but she deserved the best, and, clearly, this wasn't it. "I suppose it makes sense—nobody's stepped foot inside in years. I guess I thought—it doesn't matter. We'll think of something else."

Her eyes were wide when she turned to face him. She drew nearer slowly, as if she were in disbelief as Ben stood, heart pounding in his throat. Waiting. 

"We don't even have to stay the night if you don't want to," he blurted out. "It's—"

Rey surged forward, the impact of her face mashing up against his chest cutting him off mid-thought.

"I love it," she murmured hoarsely into his shirtfront, arms wrapped tight around him. "I love it, and I love you."

"You—you do?" he asked, baffled. 

She let out a shaky laugh. 

"It's perfect," she stressed. "We can fix it up—fix _ everything _ , don't you see? We'll make it _ ours _—there's still more than enough time."

It was as if an invisible weight fell off his shoulders. He relaxed against her, nuzzling her hair as a heated torrent of her affection engulfed him in the Force, as it soothed his rawer edges. 

"How is she?" he asked after a while.

"Happy, I think," Rey answered, placing his hand on her stomach. "See for yourself."

He reached out with the Force, and there it was. A bright light like a singular star, responding to his call.

Calm and peaceful. Safe. 

Ben smiled into her hair, mollified for now. Rey was barely showing yet, and he himself had no idea how she could tell the gender at this early a stage, but she kept insisting it was a girl. He didn't see why he shouldn't believe her.

Her hand wandered up his spine and began to massage the knots at the back of his neck.

"So worked up over nothing," she crooned, pressing up closer. "_ Relax _."

He let his eyes drift shut as Rey continued with her ministrations, her small frame arching into his in a way that made a breath catch in his throat. With how this was going, she was either going to put him to sleep or make him hard—both were fine in his book.

"I don't understand how you can be so calm," he mumbled. "This is a—big endeavor that we're taking on."

Ben could feel her smiling against his chest.

"Are you talking about the renovations or the baby?" she asked with a hint of teasing. 

He sighed. "Either. Both."

Her shoulders shook with silent laughter as she slanted—a lot more _ insistently _ this time—her hips against his, grinding against the seam of his pants. A point was made. He also recognized how lucky he was; after the life he'd lived for _ these _ to be his most pressing issues was a privilege he never thought he'd have. 

"We need to tell Leia eventually—and everyone else," Rey mused, working his growing erection with diligence. "She'll be so happy."

He let out an impatient breath. Discussing his mother right now was the last thing he wanted to do. "Not _ now _. She's got enough on her plate with the Senate—"

Rey tutted. "Excuses. When has she _ not _ been busy? Besides, we need all hands on deck with the house. Our friends could help."

Friends was, perhaps, not the word Ben would use. Over the years, Rey had kept in touch with the remnants of the Resistance, now scattered across the galaxy, even visiting them at times. Ben had no choice but to come with her—though he'd fought tooth and nail not to. There was progress, to be sure. By now, he was _ pretty _certain he could be left alone with them without the whole thing devolving into outright bloodshed, but the rift between him and her fellow rebels was far too great for a mere three years to fix. Like his scar, some things would never fully heal.

Frankly, Ben wasn't that bothered by it. Once in a blue moon, he commed his mother. It had taken some cajoling on Rey's part at first, and the conversations hadn't exactly flown smoothly. 

Too many landmines to avoid. Too much pent-up resentment. 

With time, they did start to figure it out. Ben gave his mother the latest on where they were and what kind of trouble they'd gotten themselves into as she listened, oscillating between nodding and shaking her head. She vented to him about the headache-inducing process of reinstating the Senate, about the constant deadlocks and mountains of paperwork. 

It had gotten to the point where he was _ almost _ looking forward to hearing from her. 

"Let's settle in first." 

"You just don't want visitors," Rey said archly. 

"Of course I don't," he replied, frowning. "Why would I, when I can have you all for myself?"

She made a flustered little noise, one that made his cock twitch with interest, and then she was onto him with a fury, nudging him backwards until his knees hit the covered bed.

"Sit down," she ordered haughtily. He was nothing if not eager to comply. Her voice was injected with the most thrilling kind of faux-innocence when she said, "You seem to be under a great deal of stress lately, my love. It must be hard, worrying about me and the baby all the time like that." Her eyes flicked down to the rapidly growing bulge in his pants, and he _ squirmed _in anticipation. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I don't know," he said in challenging tones, leaning back on his arms. "Can you?"

Her lips curved into a wicked little smile that made his heart soar with lust and thrill and a burning desire to feel her mouth on his skin. Then, he watched as this beautiful creature, the love of his life till the end of days, dropped to her knees in front of him. He wondered if he'll ever get used to it, knowing that he won't. She rucked up his shirt, pressing her lips against his abdomen, and his back arched on its own accord. Straining for more.

Slowly and tortuously, she kissed a flaming path down the trail of hair there. Rey stopped just above his waistband, her eyes as she met his consumed with a hunger. He was already throbbing for her, for the release yielded by her sweet mouth, his breath coming in short. 

She sat up and placed a light hand on his groin.

"You seem to be rather pent up," she drawled, her fingers ghostling the outline of his erection. "Such a shame there's no one around to lend a hand..."

"So mouthy today." He reached down to caress her cheek, and her eyes fluttered shut for a moment as she leaned into his hand. "Sweetheart, are you sure that mouth of yours can't be put to better use?"

A blush crept up her cheeks, so lovely and pink. Then, without further warning, she undid the fastenings of his pants, and he slunk back once more while her little hand wrapped around the base of his shaft with practiced ease. He felt all the tension leaving his body in an airy sigh as she wrapped her lips around the flushed head. Bit by bit, Rey worked him in, her features twisted into the most adorable expression of pure concentration, intent on helping him out the best she could. 

Despite the lewdness of the act, his heart soared. She was so good to him, his Rey, _ too _ good for him, even. Her clever tongue lavished his slit with attention in a way she knew he adored, eliciting a groan from his lips. Rey hummed around him in response, her Force signature sparking, pleased as punch. Yes, she was definitely too good for him.

Which is why it was with a small pang of lust-fueled guilt that he tangled his hand in her hair, pushing ever so slightly down. He couldn't help it, caught in a dark thrall that he was. Rey didn't mind. She fidgeted on her knees, relaxing her throat for him as he gently—so very gently—began to thrust up. Stars danced behind his lids at the sensation, his cock swelling even further. He forced himself to go slow, to keep the pace steady as he softly fucked her mouth while a breathless stream of _ yes _ and _ that's it _ and _ take it _spilled from his mouth. 

That was when Rey's own hand sneaked down the length of her body, disappearing behind her waistband. Her own pleasure added onto his through the Force like an echo of a harmony that melded with his tune. He knew this wasn't the right time, but he wanted to ask if she was happy. 

Because he was. His ambition, once spanning the whole galaxy, had narrowed down to just her and the baby he would already raze entire star systems for. And yet, somehow, he felt a lot more fulfilled now than he ever was before. Maybe this was what real peace felt like. Not an absence of guilt or pain, but knowing without a doubt where he stood and who he loved. Knowing that he was loved in return.

Pressure in his gut was quickly rising—too quickly. Her hair was a bit damp from exertion as he let it go and eased Rey off his cock. He gave her a moment to catch her breath, her hand against his thigh for support. His cock ached to back where it belonged—inside her, but he forced himself to be patient. They had all the time in the world.

"Feeling better now?" she breathed, her voice a bit raw, eyes aglow. 

"Not yet." He glanced down at his lap. "Come here."

She sprung up from where she kneeled and quickly wriggled out of the bare minimum of clothing, clambering onto his lap like she was scaling a tree, eagerness rolling off her in waves. The next part was as easy as breathing. He gripped the base of his shaft as she bracketed his thighs, as she planted a hand on his shoulder. She sank down slowly, savoring the feeling that only he could provide, the inner swell of her lip disappearing behind her teeth. He loved how quiet his mind got when they were like this, flushed and tangled in each other. How everything else faded away until it was nothing but him, her, and the electric space between them.

He was buried all the way in. Another lingering moment passed as they breathed, quietly, together. He pressed his forehead against her, boring into her eyes. This close, his vision was a little blurry, but that was beside the point.

"Hey," he said, pressing a searching kiss to her lips. "I love you."

To his surprise, and, perhaps, a grain of mortification, she giggled. "There you go, getting sappy _ again _, just like every other time—"

The corners of his mouth reluctantly turned up. "Not _ every _ time."

"Every. Time," she chided in warm tones, nosing at his scar. "It's been three years. I should know."

A response jab was already at the tip of his tongue, poised to strike, but then she started shifting, moving up and down his cock, and his mind went blissfully blank. She was _ ruthless _, the wet slide made that much more powerful by the needy roll of her hips, aggressive like she wanted nothing more than to milk every last drop. He helped her out, not minding the rougher way she was using him one bit as he slid his palm underneath her backside, getting a good feel of it while he was at it. 

It was heady, more than a little sloppy, all eagerness and no grace. Yes, it really had been three years—sometimes he couldn't believe how quickly they'd passed—but the time spent together had done nothing to douse the fire they bore for each other. If anything, as they got to know each other a little better, as they learned more about _ themselves _, it grew.

He was close, bordering on senseless, and she was close, too. Rey moved to stifle her cries in the crook of his neck, a tell-tale sign of her own incoming release, but he took hold of her chin with his thumb and index finger, coaxing her gaze to meet his. 

"No. Look at me," he urged. "Let me see you fall apart around me."

She did. The mesmerizing thrill of watching her face, studying every contorted muscle as she shuddered and writhed on his cock was enough to tip him over the edge. He followed right after, unloading deep inside her with a grunt. He unloaded deep inside her with a grunt. Holding her as bliss, thick and heavy, seeped across his body into every limb.

When he came out of it, the shadows were starker than before, the treeline outside darker in the encroaching nightfall. 

Rey followed his gaze and pressed her lips together. "You better not be thinking about leaving."

Ben smiled.

"No," he said. "I think we’re home."

  
  


* * *

"Would you look at that, someone taught their jubba bird how to talk!" Her voice was dripping with excitement as she tapped on the article. "Oh no, it says it took them four years—and it only learned three words: food, mine and out."

"Is it a relative of yours?"

"Who, the owner?"

"The bird."

Rey opened her mouth, then clamped it shut and lightly smacked his shoulder. Ben chuckled and returned to pressing slow kisses to her neck and shoulders, only half-listening while she went back to reading out the news. Or, more precisely, what passed for news these days. Without an intragalactic war taking up the spotlight, things had been rather—slow. Not that Ben minded. All his life had been an erratic rat race, chasing one goal and then the next. He could do with a little slow. 

Despite Rey's enthusiasm to move their belongings into the house _ immediately _, they'd spent the night on the Falcon. They wouldn't have—Ben didn't much care where he slept as long as it was with her—but after removing the sheet that covered the bed, they'd discovered three more of the sharp-toothed critters in a burrow they’d chewed in the mattress. With the addition of a vermin infestation, the mental checklist of renovation work was startling to look more like a tome. 

This morning, while they were having a light breakfast, Ben had said that it would be easier to raze the house down and start all over. He'd been joking—but also not really. Rey hadn't taken to it kindly, going off on a tangent about the preservation of ancestry and heritage that escaped him entirely because there was some strawberry jam glistening at the corner of her mouth, and he'd really wanted to kiss it off. He did eventually, as her skin flushed against his lips. She'd been eager to take it further, so very eager, but then her bout of morning sickness had kicked in and the spell of the moment was gone.

That was how they found themselves getting some fresh air. The remnants of the morning chill still clung to the wind as they settled under one of the jogan trees. They'd sat down facing the house, Ben with his back rested against the trunk and Rey between his legs, her back against his chest. She continued browsing the datapad silently for a moment while he kissed a familiar line down her shoulder.

"The Stormtrooper rehabilitation program seems to be running smoothly; one of the first graduates just published a memoir about her return to civilian life, " she muttered pensively, more to herself than him. "Stars, Finn must be so proud—ah, _ ahhh _, that tickles—" After her bout of manic chortles subsided, she went on, "There's going to be a podracing championship on Goroth Prime in two weeks, nothing surprising there…"

"Dreadful place," he murmured against her skin.

"Agreed. All those volcanic gasses—ugh. My clothes reeked after we left." She wrinkled her nose. "We did make some good memories there."

"We did."

"Saving that little boy from the nightdevils—one of our better moments, I think."

He remembered that day as if it were yesterday—a lone Gorothite child cowering on top of a basalt rock formation. Feline predators circling him, snarling amidst cloying fumes. But it wasn't the fight itself—exciting as though it was—but rather the manner in which they'd located the boy in that struck him as interesting. They wouldn't have, if not for his distress that echoed in the Force long before they saw him.

"That kid," Ben said. "He was Force-sensitive."

"I know." She tightened her grip on the device and drew a breath. "I've been thinking about that, actually. He wasn’t aware of the gift he possessed, and, without proper guidance, he never will." She was staring firmly ahead. "And I was thinking—maybe one day, when our daughter is older... She'll need training, too. We could bring in some others like her, like the boy—if they'll agree, that is. I think she'd appreciate the company."

Truth be told, Ben had entertained a similar idea himself. While the concept of being a mentor figure made him a little uncomfortable, there was, quite literally, nobody else in the galaxy who could do this apart from them. 

It was worth considering. 

"Bold of you to assume we'll stop at one child," he quipped instead, wrapping his arms around her. 

The line of her shoulders relaxed. "It was just something I've been mulling over as of late. We can discuss it later."

"We certainly can," he agreed. "First things first, though."

"Right."

A few more blissful minutes rolled by as they resumed their positions. Ben, dotting slow kisses along her jaw, and Rey reading out the news. The air rippled with the sugary scent of lilac in the morning sunlight. It was nice. He could stay here, just like this, forever. 

"A new species of sandworm has been discovered on Pasaana," she droned. "The Senate is butting heads over a potential new hyperlane… Hm… Oh, the trials are still ongoing. I don't understand, really; how much time do they possibly _ need _—" 

Ben stilled. So did she. It was as if an unwelcome gust from the outside world had sneaked its way in, cooling the air between them. She craned her neck to shoot him an apologetic look.

"Sorry." 

When he didn't reply, Rey promptly went back to browsing the newsfeed. Ben's chest felt tight. Living off the grid, so removed from the centre of politics, it was easy to forget how closely he'd threaded the line that led to that same fate. And how she had decided, without a single complaint, to leave her previous life behind and run away with him. 

"Is this enough for you?" he asked after an extended silence, startling her.

Rey set the datapad down, turning over to face him with an apprehensive expression. "What do you mean?" 

"I mean—this." He gestured vaguely at the house. "The house, the—me. The life that we have. Everything."

A look of surprise rose on her face as she stared at him wide-eyed. 

"You think I'm not happy?"

"I don't know." He swallowed. "Are you?"

"Ben," she said with what sounded almost like pity. "As long as I've been alive, the only thing I've ever wanted was a family. A reliable one that—that won't _ leave _ me when things get rough. You gave me that." She leaned closer, earnest and so very beautiful. "You gave me that in every possible way."

"If you say so," he muttered, a hoarse catch to his tone.

Rey laced her fingers with his.

"I do say so." The corners of her eyes crinkled with delight. "And now we have a house, too."

He huffed. "_ Barely _."

"Which is why we should get started on fixing it up right away."

They took a second to sit in the shade. Looking at what was to become, with a lot of effort and care, their new home. 

"I have to comm my mother first," Ben said, sighing. "To tell her—the big news."

Rey nodded. "You do that."

"And then we begin."

"Yes." A smile spread across her face, bright as Naboo sunlight. "And then we begin."

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Subscribe to my profile for my Reylo goodness! ❤️  
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